


Critical Wars Episode II: The Warrior of the Broken Creed

by everlightly



Series: Critical Wars: The Mighty Nein in a Galaxy Far Far Away.... [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Critical Wars, Gen, Mighty Nein AU, Mighty Nein go to SPACE, Star Wars AU, critical role au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27185834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everlightly/pseuds/everlightly
Summary: Veth and Caleb have escaped from the Empire, as fugitive and deserter. With the help of Fjord, Jester and Sprinkle, they attempt to keep under the Empire's radar, but have managed to find themselves in the heart of a Rebellion headquarters. With the Empire still on their trail, these unlikely companions must navigate this new situation without making enemies on both sides of a warring galaxy.
Series: Critical Wars: The Mighty Nein in a Galaxy Far Far Away.... [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1903003
Comments: 29
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part II of the Critical Wars series. Feel free to jump in here, or if you want to check out Episode I, use the links above or below, or just look for Episode I: The Fugitive of Felderwin on my profile.  
> For everyone that has joined from Episode I, welcome! I can't wait to continue our journey...

Forgotten in the Outer Rim, tucked away in the Marrow System, Zadash is one of the most populated planets amongst the mostly desolate worlds scattered throughout the Outer Rim. It remains untouched by the Empire, mainly due to its relative lack of valuable resources or influential leaders. However, on Zadash, hidden in the expansive mountain ranges, a spark of rebellion hides.

The low-hanging clouds around the sheer rock faces hide ship hangers and large warehouses built inside the mountains themselves. A population of almost three thousand rebels live and work there at any given time, in communities scattered in different mountains. The population fluctuates as rebels take up secret missions, infiltrate as spies, and support other bases hidden throughout the galaxy. 

At the heart of the base and burrowed in the rock is the War Room. A dramatic and doubtful name for the humble space, considering the Empire has yet to consider this Rebellion a threat, let alone a opponent in war. 

A large holographic table fills the center of the room. There are a few projection screens around the room with gently illuminated maps of systems, smuggling routes, and supply inventories. The walls are rough and symmetrical, carved out by the technology the Rebellion employed to build their largest headquarters. This particular space had burrowed into a natural cavern, which arcs sixty feet above, complete with small, winged creatures, with large amber eyes that swoop between the shadows of stalactites. The creatures are affectionately called kinzen by the rebels, after the similar-sounding phonetic chirping sound the creatures make at the rebels. (They don’t chirp at each other in that manner. It’s presumed they adopted the new form of communication to chat with their cohabitants). They crawl through the narrow tunnels that wrap around the Rebellion’s own carved-out corridors and they all live in relative peace with another.

A pair of individuals enter the room through the heavy blast doors. The dull white lights flicker on throughout the room, and the center console illuminates with blue light. The kinzen greet the newcomers from their perches in the cavern roof. A smaller orange creature swoops down with limbs outstretched to catch the updraft in its leathery wings. The kinzen gracefully settles onto a set tiefling horns, with the wingtip talons gently curled around the new perch. 

“Why do let those  things sit on your head?” asks a blue-skinned man, leaning against the center table. In front of him, a swirling map of star system hologram balloons above the table. 

Mollymauk Tealeaf scratches the orange kinzen under its chin, and it trills happily. “We all must compromise during these trying times. We share their caves so it feels only fair they are allowed to go where they please.”

“It will take a giant shit on your shoulder one day,” Babenon Dosal replies, turning his attention away from the purple tiefling and back to scanning the star maps. He swipes across the maps, his eyes tracking the various fleets of Empire ships moving throughout the galaxy, blockading his usual smuggling routes. Every day it felt to Babenon as though the Empire blockaded another star system from his reach. He was in the business of reaching every unreachable outpost that needed less-than-legal shipments completed. It seemed absurd that he couldn’t even get a single ship into the Dwendali system without being detained and arrested by the Empire.

Across the table, opposite Molly, two blue hologram spring to life, displaying two senators on the other end of the communication. One is a shorter elvish man, wearing a long cloak decorated with the motifs of Nicodranas fashion. The other is a tall human woman wearing an elegant blue dress with two decorated braids of blonde hair winding around her head.

“We have unfortunate news,” she says, and with a wave of her hand, the galaxy map begins rotating and zooming in on a star system.

“No pleasantries, then?” asks Molly, as the kinzen glides from its perch on his horn, and back up amongst the other among the dangling stalactites. 

Allura Vysoren gives him a sad smile. “I’m afraid Felderwin has been invaded.”

“Felderwin?” Molly leans forward as the map zooms in on the small farming world. “That’s getting dangerously close to Zadash. What is there for the Empire?” 

The elf, Senator Yussa Errenis, presses together his fingertips and his blue projections leans onto the table. “We received confirmation that they have invaded hundreds of towns, taken half the population, and leave the rest to spread word of the Empire’s reign. In the beginning, they burned a few of the towns to the ground, probably to inspire fear. Felderwin is a peaceful planet, and now, within days, the people are terrified into complete submission.”

“If these people aren’t fighters, then why take them? They won’t become stormtroopers, surely. The Empire has academies for that,” Molly asks.

“Cheap labor,” Babenon says, crossing his arms over his chest.“The Empire commandeered a four of unpopulated moons somewhere in the Wildlands system, and two more orbiting Damali.”

“The Wildlands system?” Molly says, and his eyes scan the star maps. “Seems odd for sure.”

“My information is good,” Babedon replies, in a bored voice. “Word is that in no time at all, they has established full-fledged mining operations.”

“You sure catch wind of quite a few words, for being part of the Rebellion,” Molly says, his red eyes narrowed.

Babenon scowls. “I am not prancing around this galaxy calling myself a rebel. I am a concerned third party, who out of the goodness of my heart, takes on some of your smuggling business.” 

“You haven’t been helping to move those people, then? The business of trafficking is a messy one, and something we, as a concerned party, would not look kindly upon.”

The genasi pointedly ignores Mollymauk and turns his attention back to the senators. “Do you have anywhere that requires my services at the moment? Otherwise, I’ll be off.”

Allura nods. “I recommend mobilizing a few of your checkpoints away from the central Marrow system. Redirect the routes and establish a drop-off location at Uthodurn.”

“Hopefully Reani can inspire your goodness of hearts,” Molly says with a grin. “Her energy is infectious.”

Yussa nods. “She has been holding together her rebels against the Empire incursion there. She thinks that they can hold out through the winter season against the troops, but it would be convenient to set up routes to get her supplies.”

Allura turns to Mollly and says, ”Can you organize relief supplies and arms from your inventories to send to Reani?”

“Consider it done,” Molly replies, dipping his head towards the Rebellion leaders.

Babenon gives the group a mock salute. “In that case, I have my assignment. I’ll get my crew on our way.”

Molly glares at the water genasi as he leaves the room and then spins back to face the senators. “I don’t know why you trust him.”

“The Gentleman’s network is far more extensive than what we have the power to establish,” Allura says. “I’m not saying he is entirely trustworthy, but as far as smugglers go, the Gentleman’s crew is at the very least dependable.”

“We have standards. We don’t put our trust into the crime families,” Yussa says. “Next to them, Babenon seems like a shining example of ethical behavior.”

“He needs a stake in this war,” Molly says. “Otherwise he could turn on us at any time.”

“He will have to find his own purpose,” Allura says. “We cannot force loyalty and hold it hostage. That is what the Empire does.”

The metal doors behind Molly slide open once more, with a hiss of pressure release at the seams. The kinzen in the ceiling call down a greeting, and Molly glances over his shoulder, smiling as he recognizes the perpetually frowning face of his favorite rebel-in-training. 

“We got something weird on the scanners,” Beau announces loudly, crossing her hands behind her head. “Oh, you busy?”

“Skies, Beau, try and make me look good. I’m trying to impress my bosses.”

“Beauregard,” Allura says fondly. “How has training been?”

Beau approaches the table so Allura would be able to see her more clearly on the other side of the communication. “I’ve been pretty bored since my teacher bailed to hang out with Yussa. Let me know as soon as you have a mission for me because I can’t take patrolling these mountains much longer.”

“We do not hang out all day,” Yussa says. “Dairon is far out of my realm of communication.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Beau says. “Still think they could have taken me with them, but instead I’m here watching the radar all day.”

Molly lets his head fall towards Beauregard and says, “So, tell me, is there actually something weird on the radar, or is this another large bird?” 

Beau jabs a finger in the tiefling’s direction. “That bird posed a threat. I make no apologies. But no, actually, there is a ship weaving through the peaks. It’s a miracle that the pilot hasn’t crashed yet.”

Molly tenses as he processes Beau’s words. “What kind of ship? Empire?”

“Not Empire. Looks like junk, to be honest. It’s weird though. We caught a rebel tracker on the ship. It looks a little like one of Dairon’s encoding patterns, but not exactly. It could just be a coincidence.”

“You know I don’t believe in coincidences,” Molly says. “Take Yasha and bring them in.”

Beau pumps her fist. “Anything to get out of this mountain for a bit. Can we take the glider?”

“Why not? Go crazy,” Molly responds cheerily, but his mind already seems far away.

Beau darts out of the room, squeezing her body through the widening gap between metal doors as they slowly slid open. She isn’t about to wait for those doors to open completely. She has no patience for those doors when there’s a task at hand.

“One of these days, she is going to run straight into those doors before they open fully,” Yussa comments. 

“Nah,” Molly says. “Beau has impeccable timing.”

“I must say, Molly, you have certainly stepped into leadership quite well,” Allura says. “Your rebels certainly respect you.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “I’m just getting too old to keep piloting. Does a number on my nerves.”

The old elf’s eyes narrow, and the wrinkles on his face crease around his eyes. 

Molly grins. “Of course, I got nothing on you, Errenis, you old bastard.”

“It’s a miracle the Zadash headquarters hasn’t collapsed under your erratic tendencies.”

“Mollymauk, there is one more thing we need to discuss,” Allura says, bring attention back to the star map. She moves back from Uthodurn and hones in on another system. “We intercepted a communication from the Apprentice’s fleet. We believe he made an personal visit to the Wildlands system. We want you to send a few spies to figure out his intentions there.”

“There’s not much in that system, besides the new mining operations,” Yussa says. “It seems they visited for barely a few rotations before leaving again. I find it hard to believe the Apprentice is interested in mines.”

“They didn’t send a fleet. They did not intend to conquer any worlds there,” Allura says. “We don’t know what they are looking for, and as it stands, we don’t have enough information to hone in on a purpose.”

Molly taps his fingers impatiently against the table, and zooms in further on the star system, scanning planet database. “If I’m not mistaken, Wildlands system is where an Old Republic Jedi temples are supposedly located.”

“Not this again,” Yussa scoffs. “It was never confirmed the Jedi had temples outside of Rosohna. And if the Empire are looking for these supposed peacekeepers, they are as foolish as you. They have been extinct for decades.”

“The Jedi were massacred,” Molly argues, “but it’s not impossible to think some survived and are hiding somewhere, waiting to join our cause. Can’t we at least entertain the idea?”

“You think if you go search the entirety of the Wildlands system, you will find Jedi just waiting to join the fight?”

“I mean, they would be a great addition to our dwindling forces. Even if there are no Jedi alive, if the Empire is looking for Jedi temples, they would find their technology and weapons. If we can find these temples, we could use it to our advantage.”

“Molly,” Allura says, a note of warning in her voice. “You are operating under a lot of assumptions with that line of thinking. The rumor of these temples could be completely unrelated to the Empire’s interest in the Wildlands system. The Apprentice might have visited the mining operation for all we know. We just want some confirmation that they don’t have any new weapons manufacturing facilities or are amassing forces in the area.”

“Wildlands System is the closest system to Rosohna,” Yussa adds. “If they are amassing forces there, they could be threatening martial rule over the remaining thread of democracy in this galaxy.”

“Can’t you talk to an Old Republic researcher in Rosohna?” Molly presses. “Someone might be able to figure out where these temples are, and the Rebellion can move in first.”

“And start the rumor that the Rebellion is recruiting Jedi? Everyone would think the Rebellion is dying if they are so desperate to chase after myths,” says Yussa.

“We have been sitting in these mountains for months, without a mission or a purpose,” Molly says. “The Rebellion  is dying. It is losing hope. We, as the people backing this cause, are losing hope. You have to give me something to work with if this show is to go on.”

“This is not a show,” Yussa says. “This is a war, and we are up against a powerful enemy. No one will find salvation in the ruined temples of extinct sorcerers.”

“Enough!” Allura says, and they both quiet down. She looks at Molly. “I will consider your proposition. I’ll work with my network to see if there is any information on these temples. Please don’t do anything rash in the meantime. Once the pieces are in place, we will be able to move more boldly against the Empire. Right now, we are just too fragile.”

“Very well,” Mollymauk says, placing his hands on his hips. “I’ll just have to put on another little song and dance to keep my rebels entertained.” 

With a unified, defeated sigh, Allura and Yussa’s holograms flicker out, the map of the galaxy disappearing with them. 

He looks up at the ceiling of the cavern. “Anyone want to go for a walk? I don’t fancy be alone at the moment.”

There is a polite chatter between the kinzen, before one swoops down and perches on Molly’s horn. He scratches its head absentmindedly, looking towards the darkened console, before leaving to see what kind of trouble Beau has undoubtedly gotten herself into.


	2. Chapter 2

Without breaking her sprint, Beau skids through another set of heavy, sliding metal doors and into a large hangar bay. There are dozens of gray and white camouflaged gliders stored in this particular bay. Scattered around is an assortment of other rebels and droids taking care of maintenance, moving around inventory and organizing shipments to other areas of the base.

As expected, the shadow of Yasha Nydoorin is outlined in the late daylight at the entrance of the hangar, looking off into the mountains. She sits with her legs dangling over the edge, her toes pointing down the sheer drop to a narrow stream that looks as thin as thread from this height. She fiddles with a gauntlet, methodically rewinding a thin cable onto a spool, looking up occasionally as kinzen glide out of the cave and into the mountain passes.

Beau slides to a stop behind her, catching her breath after the sprint from the war room, and taps her shoulder.

“Suit up! We have an unidentified flying object moving through the mountains, and we’re going to bring it in,” Beau says.

“I thought I heard something about the scanners,” Yasha says, snapping the spool back into place. “No kinzen messing with the sensors this time?”

“I take my job as professional rebel scanner very seriously. What do you need before we head out?” Beau says, starting to jog towards the mountain gliders.

“I don’t need anything else,” Yasha says, standing up and following. “I have my armor on.” She taps her knuckles against the shining silver breastplate she wears.

“Your gun?”

Yasha shrugs. “Probably don’t need it for this. Should be quick, yeah?”

Beau’s eyes goes a bit starry with admiration but she shakes her head to refocus and the two of them head towards the gliders dangling from the ceiling. They are a lot smaller than a normal ship, open roof and large jet engine jutting off the underbelly of the hull. They are easy to navigate between the peaks, and also fast enough to keep up with the ships that are forced to reduce speed in the treacherous mountain landscape.

“The plan is to bring them in for questioning, and I’m thinking we just take their ship. It looks like junk but maybe we can salvage some parts to fix up those X-wings,” Beau says, as she fires up the engine. She then checks for the supply of tiny buzzdroids charging at the center of the glider, while Yasha secures the towing cable. 

Beau releases the restraints on the glider from the control panel, and it hovers over the hangar floor. She guides the ship through the entrance and into waning daylight. Beau closes her eyes briefly, relishing the feel of the sun on her face, after mostly being sequestered in the mountain tunnels watching scanners all day or move supplies to different levels of the base. 

Yasha cracks her knuckles and scans the surroundings for the ship between the mountains. She can hear the faint, deep roar of a starship equiped for hyperspace over the softer hum of the glider engine. She tries to focus in on the noise, but the sounds echo and bounce off the rock, and she can’t pinpoint the direction from which it is coming.

“I can feel it!” Beau says. “It’s close by!” She steers the glider in a narrow crevice, tipping it at an angle to barely fit the wingspan through, but still not a single spark jumps out from hitting the rock. Had it been anyone else besides Beau piloting, Yasha didn’t they the ship would make it through these mountains unscathed.

As soon as they are clear of the crevice, Beau arcs upward and suddenly they are looking down at the topside of starship. The metal panels are chipped, exposing inner workings of the ship in half a dozen places, and the front window looks nearly gray with the grime coating it.

Yasha aims the grappling cable at the front of the ship and launches it. The cord magnetically locks onto the front of the ship. Beau keeps in line with the top of the ship, darting between peaks as suddenly and quickly as the pilot of the other ship does, speeds at which Yasha has trouble imagining anyone else being able to do so.

“Can you throw the droids onto the cockpit of the ship?” Beau calls.

Yasha picks up some of the droids and says, “I’ll just take them down myself, to be sure I don’t miss.”

“Wait, what?”

Yasha jumps off the glider, dropping fifteen feet and landing on the top of the ship. She walks across towards the cockpit that sits at the front center side of the ship. She drops the little buzzdroids and they burrow into the exposed gaps in the ship, towards the control panel. These little reprogrammed droids were designed interfere with the ship’s functionality so that it can be towed by the glider back to base. 

Curiousity peaked, Yasha considers who might casually fly their ship into these mountains, while carrying one of their spy’s trackers. Smugglers? Pirates? Empire operatives? Probably not Empire, considering this modest junker of a ship. She kneels down and leans over to get a look through the front viewport. 

Four startled faces look at her, before one, smaller figure starts screaming. The noise doesn’t reach Yasha’s ears through the glass, but she watches, confused as the one scream causes a chain reaction so that two more of them also start screaming. The only one who isn’t yelling is a human man sitting in the copilot seat, but despite his silence, he looks frozen in place, more frightened than anyone else. 

Yasha shrugs, and climbs back onto the top of the ship. The ship begins to slow down, thanks to the little hijacking droids. The enginesstill hum, just enough to keep it afloat and buoyant enough to be towed easily. Beau guides the glider a few feet down so Yasha can board, before moving to the front to begin towing the ship through the mountains, back towards one of the hangars. 

“They are an odd bunch,” Yasha comments, leaning against the towing cable. 

Beau glances over her shoulder to get a look at the crew through the glass. On the right side is a half-orc, looking extremely irritated, his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Beau, no doubt because she took control of their ship. Unfortunately, in doing so, the droids do pretty considerable damage to the internals. There’s a reason these devices aren’t used all that often when commandeering ships. They pretty much turn the ship into scrap. Beau grins and waves at the pilot, who only frowns deeper, while another figure, this one a blue-colored tiefling, waves back with enthusiasm. 

The one that concerns Beau the most, though, is the human man sitting in the co-pilot chair. His hair is chopped short, like that of a soldier, but his battered clothes, indicate otherwise. He is frozen in fear, his eyes trained straight at Yasha, like he has seen a nightmare. 

Yasha can be pretty intimidating, but she hardly looks it now, as she leans against the wall of the glider, staring up into the blue sky, lost in thought. 

If Dairon sent them, they must be important, Beau figures. They must allies of some sort, to have walked straight into their territory. They could have just hailed them, and saved Beau the trouble of using up the buzzdroids. 

She guides the starship slowly into another hangar, which is mostly filled with beat-up X-wings. Better to the have the parts close for the mechanics to get to work. 

“We are entering Hangar KS-11,” Beau says in her comms.

“Copy that,” a rebel replies. “Mollymauk is heading to your location.”

Beau retracts the cable and deactivates the hijacker droids, which in turn deactivates the starship completely, and it slams onto the hangar bay floor. The half-orc throws his arms up in despair, shooting Beau an irritated look, like  you didn’t have to just drop my ship .

Beau navigates the glider back to a vacant hanging port, and she and Yasha disembark, just as a small squad of rebels enter the bay, their fearless leader Mollymauk Tealeaf leading the way, now having donned his miraculous coat and ready for a show. 

The entrance to the ship opens awkwardly, mostly collapsed and getting jammed partway, sparks flying from exposed wiring. The half-orc crawls through the opening, and a BB unit is carefully handed down to him. Three more people follow behind. The human and tiefling crawl out after, and finally the tiny woman Beau and Yasha had seen in the cockpit emerges, holding a helmet against her chest.

Yasha’s gaze narrows at the helmet. Her vision tinges dark as she marches over to the group, and stands over the halfling. 

“You are no Mandolorian,” she hisses. “Where did you get that helmet?”

The halfling doesn’t respond. She just looks up at the towering woman before her, and points back at the half-orc.

The half-orc raises his hands in defense. “It came with the ship,” he says.

Yasha presses her mouth into a thin line and just says, “Give it.”

The halfling doesn’t hesitate the toss away the helmet. The feel of the beskar in her fingers sends her mind through an array of memories, but she clamps does on those, and brushes past Molly on her way out.

“Thank you, Yasha, for greeting out guests so warmly. Welcome to Zadash,” Molly says, turning towards the newcomers, his arms raised to gesture around him. “Now if you would be so kind, drop all your weapons and raise your hands over your head before I have this one electrocute you to within an inch of your lives.” He gestures at Beau, who twirls a staff from her back, and it expands to nearly six-foot height, with coiled wire at the ends. 

“Is this the rebellion?” the tiefling woman asks. The red BB unit rolls behind her legs and surveys the scene, rocking back and forth with more personality than expected from a droid. 

“Jester, just look at him! Do you think a rebel would be stupid enough to wear a coat like that?” the halfling says. “It’s anti-camouflage!”

“On the contrary, as a rebel, I go for a statement look. I’m not here to save people dressed poorly. If I am to become a war hero, I need to look good while doing so.”

“The boots really sell that look,” the half-orc mutters, as he removes a blaster from a holster at his leg and tosses it on the ground. Beside him, a human man moves slowly to remove two blasters from holsters under his coat, to join the growing pile. The halfling unslings a sniper from her shoulder, and the tiefling tosses a small silver pistol onto the ground. 

Molly winks at them and rests his hand one one of the gun holsters that sits above his thigh-high boots. “What’s the point of being a rebel if you aren’t a little sexy while saving the galaxy? Alright, put them in handcuffs. And deactivate that droid.”

The rebels around him begin to move, picking up weapons and locking together wrists, at loud protests from their captives.

“No, Sprinkle will be good! You don’t have to deactivate him. He will be depressed for days if you do!”

Beau sidles up next to Molly, and says under her breath, “You’re arresting them? I figured Dairon wouldn’t have sent them to be arrested by us. No one is stupid enough to fly their own ship into a rebel base just to get arrested, right?”

Molly gives Beau a bored look. “Oh, I think they are that stupid.” He turns, and glances over his shoulder and says in their direction, “Take them away!” And with a dramatic flick of his wrist, the group of rebels form up around the new prisoners.

Beau scrunches up her nose. “I could have mistaken you for General Vess DeRogna herself, with that line.”

“We don’t get prisoners that often,” Molly hisses. “Let me have this.” Turning to the rebels, he adds, pointlessly, “Take them to the brig!” He flings his hand again.

“The spy of Nicodranas sent us!” the tiefling says. “We’re good, I promise. We’re here to join the rebellion!”

Beau gestures towards them with an  I told you so  look, but Molly just shakes his head.

“You have much to learn, Beauregard,” he says, and he spins around with an extravagant flourish of his coat and leaves the hangar bay. 

  


  



	3. Chapter 3

Beau marches to her quarters, a small room tucked deep in the carved-out tunnels that wind through the mountains. All the rooms are different sizes, taking advantage of the natural pockets in the rock, and this one is barely big enough to fit the cot that is nailed into each of the opposite walls. She doesn’t have much, similar to most of the rebels that live here, since the expectation of running looms over constantly. The only things tucked under her cot are a pack with some supplies, extra clothes, and various blaster ammunition scattered around. She presses her back against the wall and slides down into a seat, taking out the staff she wore collapsed at her back. At full height, it is a long, five foot staff with two curled wire ends. She had figured out how to fire up the coils with snapping purple electricity. Right now, it only gives a startling shock, but she’s been working on removing the voltage resistors to that it is powerful enough to block blaster fire and also knock someone out cold from the shock. It’s a lot quieter than a gun, and if Dairon is ever going to take her on one of these missions with them, Beau needs to impress. This mountain is giving her a severe case of boredom.

The staff had been a gift from Dairon themselves when Beau expressed interest in taking up role of a spy. There are only a couple of staffs like these left in the galaxy, from some Old Republic or Separatist war droids, back when everyone fought with droids instead of pitting people against each other. Unfortunately, lifeforms tend to be more creative thinkers than even the most intuitive interface of a droid. And as it turns out, the people that take up the mantle of stormtroopers seem to be just as easily programmed as the droids before them. 

Beau adjusts a pair of her goggles over her eyes and pulls a small toolkit from her pack, and popping open an internal compartment of the staff. As she starts fiddling with the staff electronics, she activates her long-range communicator and encoder, a bulky radio box that sits beneath her cot. A small red light flickers on as the message begins recording, and the tiny signaling dish adjusts its trajectory to lock onto Nicodranas, as it always did. There is also a scavenged hologram display that Beau roughly wired into the top, but it was probably a miracle that things didn’t just fry the entire internals of the system. 

“Hey, it’s me. So, we got your delivery here. Then, uh, preening purple one? Yeah, you can figure out who that is. See, I’m using code names like you said. So anyway, he arrested them, and I said you wouldn’t have sent them to get arrested by us. I figured they are recruits. The tiefling said that you sent them. I don’t know. I guess I was just hoping for some clarification.” She pauses her work on the staff to look in the direction of the communicator, as if she could pretend to see Dairon on the other side. “I hope you are okay. Force be with you.” Beau felt rather silly including the last line, but even though most people in the galaxy don’t believe much in the Force, or Jedi, anymore, it was still something that belonged uniquely to the Rebellion. Some people still refused to use it, but Beau felt oddly comforted by the phrase. It connects them back to a time that seems so much easier. Sure, corruption was rampant and there was still a civil war going on, but at least two sides of a war fought each other instead of purposefully terrorizing every single planet they came across. 

She stops the message, and the red light flickers green as the message sends. Waiting to see if Dairon responds, she continues poking at the power converter in the staff. The ends flash with purple light momentarily, a little brighter than she had seen before. She carefully chips off what looks like it could be a resistor, and rewires the connection. The coils of the staff illuminate again, this time with the same purple electricity, but now it crackles, leaping from the coils haphazardly. 

Only one way to test it , Beau thinks to herself. As she holds out her finger towards the electricity, the communicator flickers to life under her cot. With her hand still half a foot from the end of the staff, the electricity lashes out and zaps Beau’s finger. The white hot energy laces up Beau’s arm, and her muscles twitch and convulse from the power, leaving behind dark purple bruised streaks on her brown skin, all the way up to her shoulder before the electricity loses substance. She drops the staff, cursing loudly and cradling her arm, before glancing up at the tiny blue light of hologram washing through the room.

“I know you didn’t just zap yourself on purpose, right?” Dairon says through the communicator. Their hood is pulled up, but Beau recognizes that voice anywhere.

“I was hoping you missed that,” Beau says through gritted teeth. “But at least I have it working.”

“Do you not have a functioning gun?” Dairon admonishes. “That will be of much more use to you at the moment.”

“At the moment, no weapon is of much use when I just stare at scanners all day,” Beau mutters. “I’m surprised you could return my message so quickly. Isn’t it like midday on Nicodranas?”

“Code names please. You never know who is listening,” Dairon hisses, and then sighs deeply. “I’m taking a chance after seeing your message, because I’m more concerned that you let those prisoners walk in without thinking to immediately arrest them! Any unknowns pose a threat, and I expected more foresight from you.”

“Wait, so you intended them to be prisoners?”

“Of course I did! Did you not recognize the human as a deserter of the Empire? Every manner in which he carries himself gives it away.”

Beau sucks at her cheek as she reaches to flick off the power to the staff. 

“I intended the human to be interrogated for Empire secrets. I had incorrectly assumed that you would recognize this and take him into custody immediately.”

“What about the other two? And the halfling? You didn’t want us to interrogate them, did you?”

“No. They were convenient pieces to help move the deserter into your hands. Keep an eye on that tiefling and her droid, though. She was able to trace and decode my transmission far too easily. She could have connections outside of both the Empire and the Rebellion with that level of ability.”

“She cracked your encryption?” Beau says.

“Multiple encryptions, it appears. Even an Empire one. I had caught onto her and her comrades filming an Empire rendezvous with my current target. That’s when I noticed her droid had remnants of my encryption mixed up in its radio signaling.”

“What about the others, then? The half-orc or the halfling?”

Beau couldn’t see Dairon’s face but she could almost sense the eyes narrowed in mild irritation.

“It seems I falsely presumed you remember enough of what I taught you to scan the current bounties out for any matches,” Dairon says. 

“That was next on my to do list.”

“Before or after knocking yourself out cold from the electricity?” At no response from Beauregard, Dairon sighs and continues, “You cannot trust the deserter. Even if you think you can win him over eventually, his loyalties are in flux right now, and I highly doubt it will end up in your favor anytime soon.”

“I hear you,” Beau says. 

“Good. I trust you know what to do now?”

“Yes, I’ll take it from here,” Beau says, setting the staff aside. “Be safe out there.”

“Force be with you,” Dairon says, and they hold up their hand. Beau mirrors the gesture, and the blue hologram flickers out.

Beau flops onto her stomach, propped up on her elbows in front of her radio, connecting into the servers used by bounty hunters to track their quarries. Preliminary searches for the tiefling yield no results, and neither does the deserter. That means the deserter is a personal target of the Empire, if they didn’t outsource his capture. It might be wise to dump him on a distant moon. 

Much to Beau’s surprise, the halfling does appear, and as soon as she glances over the bounty, Beau realizes why she had been going around with that helmet.

There is a ten-thousand credit bounty out on the nameless halfling by Commander Vess DeRogna herself for terrorizing Empire forces. For a name like DeRogna’s to be on the contact for the bounty, that halfling must have gotten into serious trouble. Or at the very least, embarrassed DeRogna to the point where her pride was on the line. Nothing shows up for the half-orc, though. It seems like a bizarre partnership. It seems hard to believe that anyone would voluntarily travel with two Empire targets. The half-orc seems unassuming enough, but the tiefling could have more to her knowledge that she lets on. With that, Beau deactivates the radio, grabs her staff and marches towards the cell block.


	4. Chapter 4

Nott paces around the tiny cell carved into a rock wall of the prison block cavern. Above them, there is a soft chittering of creatures and the flapping of wings, but whatever creatures reside above are out of sight. There is a blue plasma barrier cutting off the exit of Nott’s cell that hums in sync with the other three cells around her. She pauses to press her hands against the barrier and energy ripples out from her hand but does not give away. Her voice echoes through the cell, muffled through the corridor, “Let me out! Let me out of here!”

Jester is across from her, in her own cell, and Caleb next to her, all in Nott’s view. 

Nott hears Fjord’s voice beside her say, “They aren’t listening. You can stop shouting.”

“I would just like to thank the forces that be for not putting me in a cell where I would have to look at Fjord’s ugly face,” she says, tipping back her head to look upwards where she assumed the sky would be.

Jester frowns and presses her hands across her own cell door. “Nott is just upset. You are very handsome, Fjord.”

Fjord leans back against the side wall. “Is this all part of your plan, Jester? Because it seems to have gone a little off track.”

“I figured our friend on Nicodranas would have called ahead,” Jester says. “The Rebellion has to be so good at hiding from the Empire. They could help us!”

“What friend on Nicodranas?” Nott asks.

Jester hums and then says, “We may have ran into a rebel spy when we went to get Sprinkle’s charging plate at night. I traced their communications to here.”

“They probably did not want you cracking their code,” Fjord says. “They might think we are Empire.”

Caleb appears to slump even more in his own cell. 

“Ah, sorry Caleb,” Fjord says, wincing at the distraught deserter. “But we really don’t have any plan. We were going to lay low and keep these two out of Imperial space.”

“But now the Rebellion can hide you! And we can all fight off the Empire together, rather than just being on the run.”

Nott plops down on the ground. “I don’t know if that’s how it works, Jester. Besides, I’ve only ever fought raiders, not stormtroopers with like, walkers and rocket launchers and starfleets!” 

“But you have your sniper! You wouldn’t have to be in the fray. And there might not even be a fray! You don’t often hear about the Empire fighting rebels. They must hide really good.”

“Actually, you don’t hear about it because the Empire wants to minimize the threat of a rebellion,” Caleb says, his voice muffled as his face is buried in his arms.

Jester opens her mouth and then closes it again. 

“Do you think we can just leave?” Nott asks.

“We know where one of their bases are,” Fjord says. “I don’t think we are walking away from this freely.”

“Could we bust out of here? If I can get my rifle back, we could probably just kill everyone.”

“Nott! We can’t kill rebels!” Jester says.

“We aren’t killing anyone,” Fjord says. “And besides, even if we could magically escape, I’m pretty sure the ship sustained some damage from the hyperdrive miscalculation.”

“Next time, Sprinkle will get it right. I just have to adjust his programming a little.”

“Oh no, I am the only one allowed to touch the navicomputer from now on!”

“What if we got Caleb a droid?” Jester says. “I feel like Caleb needs a friend, like I have Sprinkle. We can get Caleb a cute little droid and they can program the navicomputer and be the best navigator buddies.”

“No need to get me a droid buddy,” Caleb says. “I would like to just find a way out of this predicament.”

Everyone falls silent again, and the sounds of the humming plasma barriers and the movement of creatures on the cavern ceiling above fill the air. 

After a brief time passes, the door down the hall slides open with a gentle puff of air, and the purple tiefling leader from the hangar bay enters. He has wavy dark hair, swept back from his face, following the flow his curled horns. He wears a rough white shirt that shows off a triangle of skin on his chest. Without the distractions of being handcuffed, Nott can now get a better look at his fancy coat, made up of long strips of colorful, mismatched cloth sewn together. The coat is missing sleeves, so is more like a long vest that reaches past his knees. The fabric are all different patterns, completely unconcerned with matching or color coordination. Behind him is only one other rebel, the pale woman with the dark air and menacing scowl. The Mandolorian helmet dangles from her belt, and across her back is slung a huge rotating barrel gun, with string of ammunition crisscrossed around her waist. As they enter, above them the creatures chirp politely at their approach and then fall back into their casual chatter.

As he takes his mark at the center of the group of cells, in full sight of all his prisoners, Mollymauk Tealeaf notices the attention and fans out the coat dramatically. “Do you like it?”

“It’s actually quite ugly,” Nott replies bluntly.

“It has sentimental value, I assure you,” Molly says. “Now, a proper welcome. I am Mollymauk Tealeaf, the famed rebellion leader and notable thorn in the Empire’s ass. This is Yasha, my body guard and local expert in dismemberment. Any questions?” He doesn’t wait for a response before plowing forward with his speech, “I have questions for you. Who are you, and what, precisely, are you intentions here?” 

“My name is Jester, and that is Nott, Fjord, and Caleb,” Jester says, point to each individual to introduce them. “We are here to join the Rebellion, of sorts.”

“Ah, welcome. Glad to have you, of sorts. And that goes the rest?”

Nott speaks up, “I’m just trying to stay below the Empire’s radar.”

“You picked a bad place to do that. We tend to dance with the Empire on a semi-frequent basis. Next?” He looks at Fjord.

“I’m just a cargo ship captain.”

“You mean a smuggler?”

Fjord sputters, “No, it’s an honest living. I don’t do that anymore.”

“I didn’t think that was something you could just leave behind. Were you part of the Gentleman’s network?”

“No.”

Molly hums to himself. “Well, that’s unfortunate. The rest of those smuggling guilds out there are pretty brutal. You just left?”

“Yes, or at least tried to. I was trying to lie low, not draw their attention.” 

“As we have already covered, joining a rebellion is a poor way to not draw attention to yourself.”

“I was somewhat aware of that.” He tries to muster up a frustrated look towards Jester, but one glance at her face with her wide eyes, and that melts away. Looking back at Mollymauk, Fjord says, “What are your plans for my ship?”

“Oh just a little dismantling here and there. We have some of our own ships we need to fix up.”

“So little chance we are leaving with just a friendly handshake and well wishes for the future?” Fjord asks.

“Oh, a very little chance indeed. Is the ship special?”

“There are a few objects of sentimental value on the ship I would rather collect before its dumped in a canyon to be forgotten.”

“We tend to melt what we don’t use. Dumping in a canyon is poor resource management. What are these sentimental pieces? Tokens of a long lost lover? Proof of Empire allegiance? Or something in between?”

“No, just something I have to look after until I can return it to its owner. May I please be permitted to get that?”

“You may not. And what about the quiet one?” Molly asks, leaning towards Caleb’s cell. 

He sits with his back pressed against the wall, and he looks at Molly. “I will speak to the pale warrior first.”

Molly gives him a quizzical look, and then back at Yasha, who’s glower transforms to a look of mild confusion. “I assure you, you do not want her to be your interrogator.”

“I will speak only to her.”

Molly shrugs. “Yasha?”

Yasha walks over to Caleb’s cell, and crouches down. She stares at him through the blue plasma, and his gaze moves in her direction, but still trained on the ground at her feet. He shifts slightly in his posture, straightening his back and looking straight ahead. She sucks her teeth and rises back to her feet.

“I’ll speak with him,” Yasha says, and then deactivates the plasma barrier to Caleb’s cell.

“Just like that?” Molly says, stepping back. “You sure he isn’t going to try and gouge out your eyes or something?”

“I can handle him,” Yasha says, cracking her knuckles. “But I think he just wants to talk.”

“Can I not join this party?” Molly asks, as Caleb stands and exits the cell.

“I think we have a few things to talk about, but rest assured I will report back to you once he is safely back in his cell.”

“And you can’t talk with him locked safely away?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Mollymauk sighs. “Very well. Take him to interrogation floor.”

“We don’t have an interrogation floor?” Yasha says, her voice rising in question.

Molly hisses, “Play it cool.”

From the diagonal cell, Nott presses her hands against the blue plasma and watches as Caleb and Yasha head towards the doors.

Louder, Molly says, “We will be back to interrogate you all shortly!” 

“Wait!” Jester calls after him. “Is my droid okay?”

“Deactivated, but unharmed,” Molly says, bowing in her direction. “On my word.”

Jester calls out, just as she hears the doors hiss open, “And please return our friend in one piece!”

“Do you think they are going to kill him if they figure out who he is?” Nott whispers from across the aisle. 

“Oh, absolutely,” Fjord says. 

“Fjord!” Jester chides. “I’m sure he will be fine. These are the good guys, after all.”

“And don’t good guys kill the bad guys?” Fjord asks.

“Caleb isn’t bad!”

“You don’t exactly know that, Jester.”

“I think he’s lost,” Nott says abruptly. “But he is still trying to be better. Fjord is the one you should be worried about. He has all sorts of shady connections!”

“Listen, you were the one that got on  my ship . I don’t think you have any room to judge your savior.”

“Speaking of ships,” Nott says, “what kind of ‘object’ is on your ship that is so special?”

“Someone I use to work with asked me to look after something,” Fjord says, defensively. 

“One of your shady connections?!”

“He was not shady! Well, I mean, at least he was less shady than most.”

“Don’t worry,” Jester says. “I’m sure they will let us out as soon as they realize that we are good people, and then we can stay out of the Empire’s hair. Easy.”

“I wish I had your optimism,” Fjord says, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes.

Across from him, Jester sits, legs crossed. Nott lays down on a cold metal platform that stick out from the wall in a makeshift bed, her back to Jester. Once again, everything is quiet, except for the creatures gliding and chirping above. 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted a bit later than usual, but still made it! I almost forgot it was Sunday, oops. Anyway, happy early Thanksgiving to anyone celebrating. With that in mind, I'm very grateful to everyone who reads along with this little story, so thank you, thank you always. Even if you're only here for part of the journey, I so appreciate you taking the time to read. I hope you enjoy as much as I enjoy sharing every week :)


	5. Chapter 5

“You sure you don’t need me around?” Mollymauk asks.

Caleb enters the monitoring room right outside of the prison block first, followed closely by Yasha and Molly. There are two rebels on duty, both leaning back in their chairs, watching the prisoner block security footage, with audio seemingly absent from the capabilities. From Caleb’s glances at the video, only the four cells belonging to his allies seem to be occupied. 

“We are just going to have a little chat,” Yasha says. “You have other things to worry about.”

“Nothing so exciting has happened in weeks,” Molly says.

“You don’t want to jinx that.”

With a laugh, Molly pats Yasha shoulder. “Force be with you. Keep an eye on this one.”

As Mollymauk leads them out of the monitoring room, Caleb scans the room and notes a large metal bin, with a red and white droid head, deactivated, poking out the top. Caleb considers this ridiculously unsecured, even Empire security standards notwithstanding. It seemed like the very definition of a grassroots rebellion, all the inexperience showing between the cracks. The Rebellion leader peels off does the hallway, his mismatched patterned coat billowing behind him, and Yasha steps in line with Caleb, gesturing down another corridor. Caleb follows her out and down a long stone hallway, with rough rock faces of partially carved stone and partially natural veins in the mountain. The white electric lights glow in vertical metal rods, welded into the walls every few feet.

There are a handful of rebels they pass, and they all respond in the same way. Each one steps aside, and watches steadily as Yasha and Caleb pass them, their eyes lingering on the stranger. Occasionally, the winged creatures that had been chirping in the cavern above the prison block would swoop down the hallway, at perfect ease with the rebels they shared the mountains with. 

It’s an odd assortment of folks passing through, ranging from what look like well-armed mercenaries, to ordinary people that just so happen to have a blaster strapped at their side. One thing they have in common though is the way in which they move about the base. There is a level of exhaustion that hangs in the air about them. There is little conversation, even long ways down the halls, save for a few words exchanged in brief. It doesn’t feel entirely unlike the days Caleb spent in his preliminary training as a Scourger. Most of the people he trained beside were to be stormtroopers, and most were just survivors from the a recent invasion, seen as capable and malleable enough to be recruited. It is the same tired despair that weighs down these rebels’ shoulders and spirits.

After maneuvering down a few more narrow passages, and down one particularly steep incline of carved stone stairs, they arrive at a long hallway with dozens of metal doors pressed into the stone. Yasha leads him to a small room with a dim light source hanging from the rough ceiling, a cot pinned to the walls and blanket on the floor. 

Yasha lets Caleb enter before her, and then sits on the floor in front of the door, blocking them both inside. Swinging her weapon into her lap, she gestures for him to sit as well. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, as he tries to analyze his surroundings, but finds little to latch onto, save the warrior sitting before him.

“You are ex-Empire” Yasha says. “It’s plain enough to see.” 

Caleb nods, and forces himself to speak. “As are you.”

“Very few even within the Empire recognize me. I surprised you do.”

“And I am surprised you admit to being Empire, within these walls.”

Yasha leans back and considers him. “I don’t want to strain the trust they have put in me, so it doesn’t come up. I managed to escape and don’t want to look back.”

”I’m a deserter myself,” Caleb says, carefully. “A Fire Scourger.”

“One of Commander Ikithon’s?” she asks, surprised and suddenly very guarded. She tenses her hand over the trigger of her weapon. Scourgers were some of the most violent and unrelenting forces of troopers that the Empire had at their disposal. They were valued for their brutality and fervent loyalty to orders.

“An invention of Ikithon’s, but I was at the disposal of DeRogna when I, ah, took my leave.”

Yasha shifts, with the weapon on her lap. “So you are not to be trusted.”

“I would hope not. You would be foolish to trust anyone so soon, let alone one just escaped from the pervasive Empire ideologies,” Caleb says. “For what it’s worth, I go by Caleb now.”

She doesn’t relax her posture. “Tell me, why did you run?”

Caleb shifts uncomfortably as his mind falls back into the events of but a few days ago. “My first true mission as a Scourger didn’t bring the glorious feelings of victory that were promised. When I removed my helmet, I only saw people dying needlessly around me. And I couldn’t bring myself to put it back on again.”

Yasha’s hand goes to the beskar helmet at her belt, the one she had confiscated from Nott. “A mask’s anonymity can be both a blessing and a curse.”

“Does that one,” Caleb asks, gesturing to the Mandolorian helmet, “mean something to you?”

“It feels like a lifetime ago, but yes.” She unclips the helmet from her belt, and taps it against a metal bracer. Both pieces vibrate with melodic intensity, and echoes through the tiny room. The silver metal of the bracers also comprises a breastplate, pauldrons, tassets and greaves, covering nearly her entire body in beskar. Caleb notices, though, there are chips of black paint still flaking roughly at the edges, like someone picked it off piece by piece with a fingernail. 

“I was permitted to keep most of my beskar after being… commandeered,” Yasha says. “But my helmet, that was taken from me and melted down.”

Caleb leans forward, his focus narrowed in on the Mandolorian. “So what is an ex-Knight of the Apprentice doing with the Rebellion anyway?”

Even the mention of the Sith Apprentice evicts a visceral reaction from her. Her eyes pinch close, and it look as though every muscle in her body tenses instinctively. “It was only by miracle I was given a chance to escape. For three years I was under his control. Everything he said to me echoed in my head so loudly and I would have to obey even when I didn’t want to.”

Caleb had heard stories of the Sith Apprentice, and a few times, he had witnessed him and his Knights in person, walking through a procession of stormtroopers aboard DeRogna’s cruiser. There had been only three Knights that walked alongside the Apprentice, and Caleb remembers seeing her there among them, in black-painted beskar and heavy-bladed weapons at her side. She had been one of two Knights to not wear a mask, in sharp contrast to the legions of stormtroopers forming a huge audience to the Apprentice’s arrival. Her face had been empty of any emotions, and she and the other two knights walked in perfect unison behind their master. Caleb has to shake his head to pull his thoughts from the past and back into this little room on Zadash.

“So you aren’t here as a spy,” Yasha says, after a drawn out moment of silence between them. 

“I just want to be done with the Empire.”

“The Rebellion is a bad choice for that.”

Caleb presses two fingers to his temple, letting down his stoic demeanor drop for a rare moment. “We sort of stumbled into it.”

“You and those other three?”

“I don’t know them all that well, to be honest. The halfling, though, who wore the helmet, she just lost her home to the Empire. We fashioned an escape for her and her family from the planet.”

“Where’s her family now?”

“She managed to get on the bad side of an Imperial officer named DeRogna. She’s trying to maintain anonymity until it is safe to return to them. We both want to stay low on the Empire’s radar.”

Yasha sighs. “If you really are Ikithon’s Scourger, he won’t stop until he finds you. I’ve heard stories of the troopers he’s trained and his claim over them.”

“I’m sure he is trying to track me as we speak. I don’t believe he has many resources in Nicodranas to relay my whereabouts, so hopefully I will be moving quietly for a little while longer. I’m pretty nondescript as far a humans go, and I’ve kept my identification markings hidden from even my traveling companions.”

Yasha gives him a curious look, and Caleb rolls up the sleeve on his jacket, still too large even though it was borrowed from a slim half-orc. Tattooed up his forearm is his ID: BRN-452. 

“Do all troopers have those?” she asks.

“Not yet. They are new, mostly being used for specialty units so far. It’s a lot of ink to go around.”

Yasha grabs his wrist, and Caleb jerks away out of sudden fear. She only holds his arm steady and presses her thumb over the ink. Caleb feels the room disappear around him, and in his mind, he is back on an Empire Star Destroyer, bare arm exposed as a droid approached, a needle in its hand. 

This will only take a moment,  the droid had said. Time became hazy as numbness overtook his arm and made his mind fuzzy. Why would they have numbed his arm for a tattoo? Troopers experience pain far worse than that. It felt odd at the time, but the cloudiness in his head made it difficult to focus on anything besides the brightness of the lights and the soft hum of the droid’s movements. 

Caleb’s mind returns to the room, Yasha holding his arm, staring intensely at his face, waiting for a response to a question he didn’t hear.

“Are you sure it’s just ink?” Yasha repeats more earnestly, still holding his arm, her fingers tightening around his wrist. 

He doesn’t get a chance to respond. A siren suddenly echoes down the halls of the base, and a red light pulses in the room above the door. The high-pitched alarm rises once, then twice, followed by three staccato blasts that ring in their ears, before starting the sequence again.

“It’s too late.” Yasha is already on her feet, hoisting the gun over her shoulder. “Go back to the prison, grab your weapons and you companions. We need to evacuate.”

Caleb is still frozen, sitting on the floor. Yasha leans down, her face an inch from his, and she growls, “Move.  Now. ”

Caleb melts out of his, and the adrenaline hits. His brain is beginning to calculate possible escape roots, but his breath shortens to sharp inhales as the reality of what could be waiting in the skies above settles in. 

“Give this to halfling. She will need it more than me,” Yasha says, unclipping the helmet from her belt and tossing it at Caleb. He stumbles to grab it with his shaking hands. “Go save your friends.”

Yasha leaves the quarters first, darting down the hall in the opposite direction they came, talking into the communicator on her wrist. Already there are people streaming from their rooms carrying meager possession and scattering in all directions. Caleb takes a deep breath and let’s himself to move into autopilot. His brain guides him back up the steep stairs and along the rocky corridors that route back to the prison block,. 

As he gets deeper within the base, the crowds are thin, with only a few rebels moving about these levels, weapons drawn and scant armor adorned. When he enters, the guards have disappeared from their post, doubtless to deal with the much bigger threat that looms in the Zadash’s atmosphere. Caleb darts over to the metal bin holding that had held Sprinkle. He scans the contents, noticing Jester’s droid and sleek silver pistol were already missing. He doesn’t take time to consider why, only grabs Nott’s rifle, and two other blasters.

Caleb opens the sliding door to the cell block, and he hears the voices of Nott and Fjord down the hall.

“Why isn’t that annoying noise stopping?” screams Nott.

“Sounds like a warning. The base might be under attack,” Fjord yells back.

“I can’t believe I’m going to die here, and you are the last voice I hear!” Nott wails.

As Caleb runs down the hall, he notices the lack of the mountain-dwelling creatures and polite chitters in the cavern above. He approaches the quadrant of cells, just as the entire room shakes from some sort of impact. A few small chunks of stone rain down from the ceiling.

“Empire found us,” Caleb says, and he deactivates the plasma barrier in both their cells, and tosses them their weapons. He then hands over beskar helmet towards Nott. “Yasha says you will need this.”

“If the Empire is really here, can we actually escape?” Nott asks, putting on the helmet. Halfway through her sentence, the audio clicks on and her voice sounds mechanical through the helmet speakers. “Should we try to hide until they go away?”

Another blast rocks the base, and more rubble crumbles from above.

“I do not think they will leave this place standing,” Caleb says. He scans the other cells. “Where is Jester?”

“We don’t know. Another rebel came to interrogate her,” Fjord says. 

“We have to find her,” Nott says. “Then we need to get out of here!”

“I can start hailing her through comms, but we need to get to a hangar. Hopefully she can meet us there,” Fjord says. “Does anyone remember the way back to my ship?”

“I remember,” Caleb says. He takes off down the hall and leads them back, exiting the prison block. The siren is significantly louder back in the corridors, but the red lights have since stopped flashing and now maintain a steady ready light as far down the halls as Caleb can see. 

“Jester!” Fjord yells into the device on his wrist, over the wail of the siren. “Jester, where are you?”

Caleb darts down another hall, and a few other rebels are running ahead, blasters at the ready. 

“Jester, can you hear me?” Fjord tries to adjust a setting on the comm, switching to a different frequency.

They travel down a long ramp, following a group of rebels who are shouting orders to each other, but no one seems to be paying attention over the wailing sirens and intermittent explosive blasts. 

Finally, the three of them emerge into a large hangar bay, followed by a handful of rebels behind them. Fjord’s ship still sits to the side, just as it was left, still lifeless after the hijacker droids at corrupted the hardware. More people are scattered around, throwing supplies into the few ships around the hangar that are equipped for space travel. They move with urgency, but in the hangar a few people have taken charge, so there is less chaos than in the tunnels.

But that doesn’t last.

The world around Caleb slows, as his ears catch the sound of ships approaching. He watches as seconds later, four imperial drop ships swoop down and hover before the entrance to the hangar, tinted blue from the ray shield guarding the entrance. Green bullets streak from the turrets of the ships, aiming for the metal frame the powers the shield buried in the mountain. 

It only takes a few well-aimed shots before the light blue ray shield flickers out, and its steady hum dissipates.

Rebels scatter backwards, ducking behind crates and ships for cover, weapons raised towards the drop ships as they land at the front of the hangar. Nott grabs the edge of Caleb’s jacket and yanks him down behind a stack of metal crates, while Fjord flattens himself against a rack of spare ship parts on the other side of the doors. He is still switching frequencies, trying to get a hold of Jester, but there is no response.

The flashing red lights and sirens fade fade from his attention while Caleb focuses onto the ships before them, still. Around the hangar, rebels are motionless, their blasters trained at the drop ship doors, awaiting the enemy to emerge.

The doors of the drop ships slide open, with a hiss of pressure releasing. White-armored troopers rush down the ramps in uniform lines, splitting off into a practiced formation Caleb registers faintly in the back of his racing mind as familiar. In unison, the stormtroopers fire off a wave red bullets into the hangar.

Rebels jump into action, their own bullets returning in fire. The entire hangar bay is lit up in intermittent burst of the red lights streaking around the bay.

Nott swings her rifle from her back and levels it towards the enemy, crouching and peaking around the edge of the solid metal crate. She calls over her shoulder, “What’s the plan?”

Caleb looks at her, eyes wide. “We have to clear this hangar if we want to escape.”

Nott’s masked face is staring towards Caleb, and he can almost picture her eyes wide and terrified, just as they were the first time they met. Her head jerks to the side as a red bullet ricochets off the beskar, and she ducks back down behind cover. 

“I will get you back to your family safe and sound,” Caleb says, his voice earnest. He takes his gun, double checks the weapon’s power source, and then clicks the cartridge back into place. “I promise you that on my life.”

Nott presses her back to the crate and adjusts the helmet on her head. “You’ve saved my life once already. It would be impolite to not save your’s in return. We both survive or no deal.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Caleb watches another drop ship slowly approaching, while more troopers peel off from the drop ships. A deep sense of dread settles over Caleb, but he looks towards Nott and nods. “Survival it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had been doing so well with timing so I was bound to be late eventually, haha. I'll be back on track next Sunday.  
> Hope it was worth the wait!


	6. Chapter 6

A short time after Caleb had left with Yasha, another rebel comes. This one has brown skin, and the sides of her head shaved, with long hair on top of her head is tied back in a bun. Jester recognizes her from earlier in the hangar as one of the rebels that had messed up Fjord’s ship. She has goggles hanging around her neck, and unlike before when she just had a blaster at her hip, she now also has a staff with coiled metal on the ends collapsed and sheathed at her back.

“You said you name is Jester?”

Jester jumps up and nods from inside the cell.

“The name’s Beau,” the rebel says, and she deactivates plasma shield.

“Where are you taking Jester?” Nott demands. “Why doesn’t anyone interrogate the sketchy half-orc?”

“Just have a few questions for her. Relax, she’ll be safe with me,” Beau assures her.

Nott narrows her eyes towards the rebel and says, “If you hurt her, I will destroy you.”

“That’s very sweet, Nott,” Jester says. “I’ll be okay.”

Fjord and Nott watch uselessly from behind their blue cell barriers as Jester is escorted out.

As soon as the cell block door slides shut behinds them, Beau goes over to a metal crate at the side of the room.

“Hey, what are you doing?” one of the guards asks, leaning forward out of his relaxed pose.

“She’s joining the rebellion,” Beau says, reaching into the crate and tossing Jester her pistol. “She can’t do that without her weapon.”

“Is this authorized?” asks the other guard.

“Yes, obviously,” Beau replies, rolling her eyes. “You don’t believe me?”

Neither guard looks like they believe her, but they must decide it’s not worth the argument. Beau then goes to hoist out the deactivated droid, but Jester waves her off.

“Sprinkle is pretty heavy,” she says, “Let me get him.”

Effortlessly, she picks the BB unit up and out of the crate. Beau is wordlessly impressed, but she shakes her head, trying to focus. “Wait, the droid has a name?”

“Yes, his name is Sprinkle.” Jester powers up the droid, and his blue light flashes on. “Hey buddy, how are you feeling?”

Sprinkle replies in a series of affronted beeps, and Jester gently pats his head. “Don’t worry, it was all a misunderstanding. Won’t happen again.”

Beau is about to ask another question before deciding it probably wouldn’t clarify anything.

She leads Jester and Sprinkle out of the prison block and Jester asks, “Are you actually letting me join? It didn’t seem like a popular opinion earlier. Did you actually get approval? Could you put in a good word for my friends?”

“So I didn’t actually get approval, but don’t worry about it. Everyone is just excited to have some excitement around here for once.”

Beau leads them down a couple passages and then stops at a set of double doors. She activates the panel and the doors slide open to reveal a bustling mess hall just inside. There are at least a hundred or so rebels milling about the large, natural cavern in which the mess hall is nestled. Jester looks up, and can’t even see the ceiling, but hears little chirps of the animals up there, similar to the ones in the prison block, and every once in a while, and catches the swooping movement of a creature out of the corner of her eye. Lights are strung across the room, and long metal tables and benches fill the space. An open kitchen sits on the far side, with large appliances and a variety of droids managing the space. 

“It’s not much, but I figured you would be hungry,” Beau says. “We can take some back to your friends, but I wanted to talk about you joining the rebellion first. And a few questions about your friends.”

Beau grabs them both a bowl of a sweet-smelling vegetable stew before taking seats at an empty end of a table. Eyes follow the unfamiliar tiefling around the room, but one glare from Beauregard and everyone quickly returned to their own business.

“So I can tell by the style your outfit and pistol that you’re from Nicodranas,” Beau says. “I’ve heard its beautiful there. Right on an ocean and everything.”

“Oh it is beautiful,” Jester says. “The sunsets are like nothing else. I would watch them everyday from my window, and sometimes my mama would join me and we would watch together, and she would sing me a song. She is the most talented singer.”

“So why did you leave? Nicodranas is neutral, so it’s not like there’s threats to worry about.”

“Ooh, well,” Jester says, in a sing-song voice. “I caused a little bit of trouble with one of the representatives. But turns out he’s actually friends with the Empire supposedly! We saw him being all shady and stuff, and then your spy friend caught us and then they threatened us a little bit. But anyways, it feels stupid that I have to leave my home and supposedly an ally of the Empire got to stay.”

“That’s what Dairon was investigating,” Beau says. 

“Dairon is the spy?” Jester asks, and Beau nods. “Well, I hope they tell everyone about him, because he’s the worst. I mean, I guess it’s not all bad. I had never left Nicodranas before then, and now I have gotten to travel all over.”

“So why do you want to join the Rebellion, anyway? You won’t exactly be lying low, if that’s your goal.”

“Actually, I’m trying to find my dad. My mama never told me too much about him, except that he is very handsome, and also a good man. So I figured, good people join the Rebellion against the Empire! So that’s kind of why I’m here.”

Beau shrugs and scoops up more stew. “That’s not the worst reason I’ve heard for joining the Rebel Alliance.”

“Why did you join, Beau?”

“I was bored. Gave me a purpose, got me away from my family.”

“Do you not like your family?” Jester asks, gently.

“They can be difficult. Don’t you ever just get frustrated at your mom?”

Jester shakes her head, and from the floor Sprinkle beeps indignantly at the accusation. “I love Mama very much. I wouldn’t be angry at her.”

Beau sighs, and lifts her spoon in Jester’s direction. “I’ll cheers to that.”

Jester smiles, and gently taps her spoon against Beau’s.

“How did you find this place anyway?” Beau asks, slurping at her soup. “We take every precaution to keep this place off the map.”

As Jester is considering how honestly she should answer, a loud siren blares through the space, and all the lights in the mess hall flash bright red. Around her, everyone explodes into motion, immediately abandoning their food and charging towards the door, ready weapons at their side.

“That’s not good,” Beau says, leaping to her feet and grabbing Jester’s hand. “We have to go, now!”

“What is that?” Jester yells over the sound as Beau breaks into a run towards the doors. Around them, the whole mountain seems to shake, as if an earthquake were striking. Rocks tumble from the ceiling, and the creatures gliding above screech in distress.

“That means we are under attack,” Beau says. She removes her blaster from her hip holster. She taps the comms on her wrist and holds out her arm. “Here, let me patch you into the rebel scramble set. You have to listen if there is an evac signal.”

Jester taps Sprinkle, and his small antennae blinks,  red, red, green , as he connects to the signal. Suddenly, a torrent of voices burst over the comm, all talking over each other in sudden panic.

“Imperial fleet spotted in the northeastern sky!”

“Landing ships heading towards the upper north hangar bay! UN-14 and UN-32”

“More coming in on the lower west bays, LV-50 and 51.” 

Sprinkle hums worriedly and rolls furiously to keep up.

A familiar voice takes over the line, saying, “This is Molly. Grab your things, everyone! We are evacuating! Clear out any hangar you can and get the fuck out!”

“Evacuation?” Jester yells over the sirens.

“Well that didn’t take long. It’s got to be real bad,” Beau says. The two continue charging down the hall, and Beau raises her comm. “Yasha? Yasha, come in.”

A lone voice crackles over Beau’s comms: “Beau? Beau, where are you?”

“The blue tiefling and I are leaving the mess hall now. Where are you?”

“I’m heading towards Bay UN-14. Head that way, and I’ll catch up!”

They head up a spiraling rocky ramp towards the hangar that sits higher up in the mountain. It’s a smaller bay compared to the one Jester had seen before, but has a few ships that could get them off Zadash and into hyperspace. 

A dozen other rebels run alongside them, weapons at the ready. Beau has her gun raised as they burst into the hangar bay, but it is already filled with the noise and flashing red lights of gunfire. 

As Jester enters the hangar, stormtroopers are already emerging from two landing ships at the entrance of the bay, and rebels are ducked behind cover, sending off shots at the opportunity arises. 

A scattering of bullets strike above their heads as they enter the bay, chiming against the metallic doors behind them. Yasha suddenly appears behind them, and pushes the Jester and Beau behind a crumpled glider that appears to have fallen from the ceiling. 

“If there’s only two drop ships here,” Beau says. “we can get this hangar clear and escape.”

“What about my friends?” Jester demands. “I have to go back for them!”

“Caleb is letting them out,” Yasha confirms. “We are all on our own from here.”

“I can’t leave them behind!”

Beau looks over to Jester. “Try and get in touch. Do what you can. And we will do what we do best,” Beau says and nods toward Yasha.

Yasha acknowledges the glance and releases the safety on the rotating barrel gun. Beau lets loose handful of shots towards the stormtroopers huddled around the landing ships as Yasha rises to her feet sending a spray of gunfire into the fray. Jester peaks around another corner, firing off the bright blue bullets from her pistol, and she quickly ducks back as red bullets ping off the glider. 

“Sprinkle, try to find Fjord!” Jester calls out over the commotion. Sprinkle chirps in response, and the antennae begins flashing red once more, scanning for the signal.

There is a couple shouts from rebels around the hangar as another ship appears at the entrance. This ship is different from the landing crafts. Instead of the bulky ship with the large cargo hold, this dark ship is sleek and elegant, with three wings extended in a triangle. Its two lower wings fold up towards the top as it lands behind the lone of the other two drop ships. 

“What do you think is in there?” Beau asks, calling over to Yasha.

When Jester looks over, Yasha is frozen, her eyes wide, staring at the ship. Before Jester can say anything, Yasha leaps over the glider, and charges towards the center of the hangar, completely exposed to enemy gunfire.

“Yasha!” Beau screams out, and jumps after her, quickly trying to lay down cover for her friend. A few troopers spot her in the open, but Beau puts a bullet through their heads before they can take a shot. 

Jester takes a few more shots from her hiding place, knowing she wouldn’t stand much of a chance out in the open. She isn’t an experienced fighter by any means, and watching Beau dodge incoming fire with impossible precision is nerve-wracking to say the least. In fact, as Jester takes in the surroundings, feeling the adrenaline pounding in her ears, she realizes this is the first time she has ever been in a true firefight. 

But that doesn’t matter. She has work to do.

Jester scans the battlefield and hones in on an X-Wing tipped over and sitting in the corner, most of its landing gear broken. She gestures for Sprinkle to follow her, and she sprints over to the ship.

As she is moving across the hangar, the door of newest ship to arrive lowers with a loud whine. A single figure emerges, not even flanked by troopers. Jester slides behind the destroyed X-Wing, and she feels her whole body tense as she watches the figure casually walk off the landing gear and into the middle of the fight. The aura around him radiates such power, no troopers are needed to back him up. It’s almost as if every bullet streaming past him is too scared to get close, and veers away. He has bright red skin and two horns that arc up from his forehead. He wears all black tunic, and his cape whips angrily behind him. Jester had never seen him before, but this has to be none other than the Sith Apprentice himself.

Lord Obann’s deep laugh echoes through the hangar, unnaturally loud. “My dear Knight, I thought I sensed you here! I’m so pleased to have found you once again.”

A few stormtroopers take aim at Yasha, who stands, breathing heavily in the center of the hangar. Obann raises his one hand and says, “Leave her to me.”

Beau skids to a halt a few paces behind Yasha, as her gaze darts between the Apprentice and Yasha, trying to see the invisible connection between them. She knows Yasha, and has trusted her and fought with her ever since Beau joined the rebellion a little under a year ago. And Molly had know her long before that. 

Yasha opens fire on the Sith Apprentice, but he braces himself, and deflects the bullets with an invisible Force, redirecting them back into rebel fighters. Yasha stops firing as rebels duck at the unexpected bullets, a few cutting through their flesh.

Behind them, an engine roars and sputters to life. Beau glances over her shoulder to see Jester, with her droid on her lap, in the cockpit of the X-wing. She fires the guns of the ship, searing through one of the landing ships, which explodes upon impact. Another blast tears across the side of Obann’s ship, who snarls and raises his hand at Jester. She throws Sprinkle from the cockpit, and vaults out, a second before the metal bends and collapses together like a giant fist had crushed it. 

Without hesitation, Yasha and Beau open fire at the Sith Apprentice.

He activates his red lightsaber just in time to deflect the bullets, but its enough to distract him from Jester, who is stumbling to her feet and back towards the cover of the fallen glider.

“I really don’t like your new friends,” Obann growls, and he extends his hand towards Yasha. 

Yasha cries out in frustration, roaring in pain. Her whole body seems frozen in place, before her arms go limp, and the weapon drops out of her hands. 

Beau stares as Yasha’s gaze hardens and then glances back to Obann, who focuses intently on Yasha. He says, “Kill them all.”

“Yasha?” Beau asks tentatively and reaches out towards her friend.

Yasha’s fist swings out towards Beau, who ducks out of the way, and darts back. Yasha wordlessly picks up her gun, turning her back to Beau and firing off round towards a group of rebels pinned down. Rebels drop one after the other, wounded or dead. Screams echo through the hangar, as they all watch their ally turn on them, with nothing more than a laugh from the Apprentice behind her.

Beau holsters her blaster and hones in on Obann. She pulls the staff from her back, and the coils flicker on with purple electricity. There’s no guarantee this will hold up against his weapon, but the way Beau figures it, there is only one way to find out. 

Beau charges Obann, leaping and bringing the staff down in a huge chop. His red blade rises to meet her staff, and he drops his hand away from Yasha to fend on the attack with both on his lightsaber. The purple electricity crackles against the blade, managing to deflect, but the lightsaber crackles with a similar energy, and Beau can feel the heat rising off the blade. If that were to hit any other part of the staff, she knew that it would cut through the metal with ease. 

Beau tucks and rolls aside, swinging the staff towards his back, but Obann spins around, twisting his hands to parry. With another swing, she sweeps the opposite end of the staff up to his shoulder with a furious speed that he barely shifts fast enough to counter. With a growl, he pushes her back and Beau catches herself in a crouch a few feet away. He swings down with the lightsaber, and Beau darts out of the way, arcing the staff and catching his knee with the electrified edge, sending a brief but potent pain up his leg. 

“You are going to regret that,” Lord Obann hisses, and takes three furious swings at her. She ducks away from two, parrying the third at her shoulder.

Across the bay, Jester rushes forward, ducking behind more burning gliders. She stops beside a group of rebels, as a volley of shots ping into the wall behind them from Yasha’s gun.

“What’s the plan?” Jester asks.

One of the rebels looks at her, clueless. “We thought we could clear the bay from troopers, but with the Apprentice here…”

“The bay is almost completely clear though! Most of the troopers are down. We can still escape,” Jester insists, and Sprinkle chirps enthusiastically beside her.

“Do you have another plan?” a different rebel asks. This one holds a wound in her shoulder, and tears bit at the corners of her eyes as she looks up at Jester.

Jester scans the scene. “I think so. We are going to take Obann’s ship.”

The rebels around her all turn now and stare.

“We can’t take that ship!” someone argues, and there’s a few doubtful glances exchanged amongst them.

“Sure we can!” Jester replies. “I have a very talented droid here who can fly it for us, and its the only ship that has a clear path to leave.”

Everyone looks at her, incredulous.

“We don’t have to take it far, just to the next closest hangar bay. It’s got to be easier than fighting back through the base.”

One of the rebels, the one with a wound in her shoulder, nods at Jester. “Let’s do it.” She opens up her comm link and begin giving out orders to the survivors in the bay.

“What do we do about Yasha?” someone asks.

Jester looks at Yasha, the warrior’s eyes glazed over in some kind of suspended agency. “I’m going to hope Beau has a plan for that.”

At this moment, Obann yells out, and flings Beau back away from himself with that same invisible Force that stopped the bullets and crushed the body of the X-Wing. Her body flies up in the air and is thrown behind Yasha, who watches, vacantly.

Obann stalks forward, hand raised. Beau’s body is lifted off the ground, and she claws at her neck as the air is cut off from her lungs. 

“You are my Knight, so obey me!” Obann orders Yasha, not taking his eyes of Beau. “End this pest. Now!”

Behind him, a small group of rebels move towards the Apprentice’s ship, picking off the waning number of stormtroopers as they go. 

“Get the ship ready to go, Sprinkle!” Jester calls out. 

Sprinkle trills in acknowledge and scoots aboard the ship. 

Jester stands at the base of the ramp, waving on the other rebels, shooting at stray stormtroopers scattered throughout the hangar. As the troopers fall, Jester turns her attention back to the Apprentice. She watches in horror as Obann stands with Beau hanging limply before him in midair. Taking a deep breath, she levels her pistol and takes her shot at his exposed back. The blue bullet streaks through the air, but at the last second Obann spins around, and the red lightsaber deflects the bullets with ease. It’s the momentary distraction needed to release Beau, who stumbles, but lands on her feet, electrifying the staff once again. 

Obann glares at her, and Jester darts behind one of the landing ships, scanning the hangar’s interior for anything that can help, anything that could distract Obann long enough for them to escape. As she takes in her surroundings, she spots a row of Y-wing detonators spilling out of a crate, and grins. 

Beau scrambles over to Yasha, and grabs her arm. Yasha looks at her with those vacant eyes.

“Yasha,” she says. “It’s Beau. Can you hear me? Molly needs us.”

Yasha swings at Beau, and the barrel of the gun narrowly missing cracking her in the ribs as she leaps back out of the way. Beau circles around and charges forward, slamming into Yasha’s back and tackling her to the ground.

“Your name is Yasha,” Beau repeats, this time with more force. “You are Yasha! Remember this!”

Yasha’s head jerks backwards, as if hit by a wave. When she looks back up at Beau, her face is softened slightly with recognition.

“Impossible!” Obann yells from behind them, his attention drawn away from the rebels behind him.

“We have to get out of here,” Yasha says, and Beau heaves a sigh of relief. 

“Wrong,” Obann says, raising his lightsaber and leveling it towards the two women. “You will die here.”

Behind him, the small shape of Jester pops out from behind the landing ship.

“Get to the ship!” she calls out, as she chucks four blinking spheres at the ceiling.

Yasha grabs Beau and dives to the side, at the detonators tap the ceiling and explode in a burst of heat and noise that rocks the entire hangar. The rocky ceiling crumbles, and large chunks of debris fall. Obann raises his hand above his head to slow the rocks before they crush him.

That’s all the time Yasha needs to grab Beau and make a dash for the ship, its engine already humming and lifting off slowly from the hangar. Jester scrambles after them, and together they throw themselves onto the ship. The rebels around them drag the three further into the ship, as another takes control of the ship, accelerating out of the hangar. Obann tosses the rocks aside and stalks towards the ship. 

Jester peeks over the edge of the ship’s ramp as it rises slowly, and she tosses the final few detonators towards Obann. With a frustrated yell, the Apprentice flings his arm, and the detonators freeze in place, and then reverse direction, flying back into the ship. The ship rocks as one of the detonators explodes against the wing.

Beau rushes to the cockpit, pushing through the clusters of rebels, yelling, “Get us to southern hangar! LV-50”

Jester follows Beau into the cockpit, and kneels down by Sprinkle, taking his head between her hands. “Are you okay?”

He beeps affirmative.

Jester glances around him, and spots a busted Empire BB-8 unit, still smoking. “Did you do that?”

Again he beeps in affirmative. 

“Oh, I’m so proud of you!” Jester scratches his head. She glances back at the Empire droid. “Do you think that one knows anything useful?”

Sprinkle chirps and Jester nods and says, “Yes, I agree. Let me just…” She reaches around Sprinkle, bracing one hand on the body of the deactivated droid, and the other on its head. With one quick move, she snaps off the BB unit’s head and tucks it under her arm. Sprinkle chirps a little song of admiration.

The rebel at the helm steers the busted ship towards the largest hangar bay near the base of the mountain, where most of there largest starship are stored. There are flashes of red light flaring out from the entrance and stray bullets escaping the entrance and dissolving against the adjacent rock faces, indicating the firefight taking place inside.

“Hold on everyone! This is going to be a rough landing,” Beau shouts over her shoulder. The ship dives and pitches to the side as it crashes, skidding to a stop half way into the hangar. There is a pinging of shots ricocheting off the exterior of the ship. There was no way they would get out that direction without being razed by the troopers there.

“Take cover,” Yasha says, and she shifts so the barrel of her gun levels with the front glass.

Beau dives back towards the hold of the ship with the other rebels, as Yasha unleashes on the window. 

Glass shatters outward, and Yasha leaps through. Jester grabs Sprinkle and the imperial droid head, and Beau helps guide her through the jagged edges of their improvised exit. 

Rebels in the hangar turn their attention towards the ship with their allies, laying down a line of cover as they all escape behind enemy lines and scatter to the sides of the hangar.

Beau skirts the edge of the hangar and ducks behind a pallet of spare ship parts with another rebel crouched behind.

“What’s the plan?” Beau asks him, pulling out her gun again.

“Mollymauk is on his way from the war room,” a rebel answers, sending off a few shots into a squadron of advancing troopers. “Right now, we have three ships primed for take off, including one of the smuggler’s.” He tips his head towards the unfamiliar ship in the corner.

A few bullets ping off near them, and Beau leans around and shoots cleanly through the helmet of an approaching trooper. “Yasha, take Jester and get aboard a ship. I’ll meet you there.”

Jester protests, “I need to make sure my friends make it, too! I haven’t heard from Fjord yet.” 

“I will wait for them,” Beau replies. “I promise.” 

Jester squeezes her eyes shut, and takes a deep breath, but she nods in acknowledgment. 

Yasha reloaded her gun with ammunition, and rotates the barrel back into place. She rises to her full height, and sends an arc of red bullets into the hangar. Jester ducks behind her, and together, the three of them back up towards the smuggler’s cargo ship. Rebels fan out beside them, peeling off to the other two star ships as they go. 

Beau ducks behind another stack of supplies by the cargo ship entrance, firing at stormtroopers as they get close. Behind her, a few more rebels board, some injured. Others are dragged unconscious. 

Beau scans the scene. Stormtrooper numbers are waning here as well, and there is no sound of approaching reinforcements. At least not yet. She ducks behind again, and reloads her gun. She flips on her comm and sends out a message: “Molly, get to the south hangar. We are getting ready to leave.”

Now they just had too see how long they could stand to wait.


	7. Chapter 7

“It’s no use,” Fjord calls over. “Jester must be on a different channel.”

Nott scans the hangar with the scope of her rifle. She fires off shot after shot, easily piercing through white helmets and chestplates, before ducking her head behind the crates to reload. 

“Do we really think we can clear this hangar?” Nott calls down.

Caleb looks up at her, eyes wide. “I don’t know if we have a choice.”

Fjord fires his own blaster. It’s not a very powerful weapon, and its pretty old too. The bullet arc funny with every shot, but he still manages to hit approaching troopers.

“You just have to hope another drop ship doesn’t come here,” Fjord calls back to her.

“You shouldn’t give the universe such an opportunity to prove you wrong,” Caleb responds. 

The doors leading into the base slide open, and a group of rebels emerge, one colorful purple tiefling among them. He spots his prisoners, no longer in their cells, and skirts his way towards them. He pulls out both of the guns holstered at his thighs, aiming one at Caleb, and the other at Nott. Fjord seems mildly irritated that he wasn’t considered more of a threat than the skittish halfling and the mopey human, but he supposes now is not the time to dwell. 

“Care to explain yourselves?” Mollymauk demands.

Caleb says, “Right now, we are just trying to escape like the rest of you.”

“The Empire didn’t track you here?” Molly replies. “I find that impossible to believe. This base has been secure for months.”

“I think it’s here,” Caleb says, tapping his knuckles against his forearm. “I’m working on how to deactivate it before we leave.”

“I don’t quite believe you’re so innocent, but if we make it out of here alive, then we can fight over it,” Molly says, shifting his guns away from the two ex-prisoners and taking a few shots over the supply crates towards approaching troopers. One of Molly’s ear twitches, and he narrows his eyes towards the hangar entrance.

It takes a moment before Caleb can make out the sound of an approaching vessel. Another drop ship descends towards the hangar, this one colored in red and black. One that Caleb is all too familiar with.

“Those are Fire Scourgers,” Caleb calls out. “They plan on burning everything in this hangar to the ground!”

As the ship lands, the doors slide open and a squadron of red and white troopers emerge, with the their fuel tanks strapped on their backs. Another figure exits the ship, this one in all black armor, with a dark hood pulled over her face. She ignites a blue shield at curves like a half moon around her body, emanating from a gauntlet around her left arm. 

“Well, this is just turning out to be an awful day,” Molly says and his head pivots to look at Caleb. “Tell me that’s not one of the Apprentice’s Knights.”

Caleb peaks around the corner at the figure and then looks back at Molly. “That’s Caedogeist.”

She walks forward, unconcerned with the rebel shots fired at her. Every one of the red bullets is absorbed by the shield before they reach her. The Fire Scourgers fan out around her, taking cover behind various ships beside the other troopers, seemingly waiting for her command. Once she is at the center of the hangar, she crouches down, placing a small disk on the ground.

A giant blue hologram appears, stretching up towards the ceiling of the hangar. Caleb freezes when he recognizes his ex-Captain.

Trent Ikithon’s hologram stands fifteen feet tall before them. Virtually of course, since he would never dream of entering a battle himself. His voice rings out through the hangar, “Rebel Alliance! Your carelessness has once again lead to your demise.”

Molly groans loudly, and calls up to Nott, “Can you please shoot that fucking comm? I really don’t feel like dealing with a monologue right now.”

Nott reloads her ammo, and frowns. “I would if it wasn’t being covered by her shield.”

Molly glances over at Caleb, who is frozen, staring at the hologram. He leans over beside Caleb and waves his hand in front of the other’s face. “Wake up. We still need to clear this hangar.”

“That’s Ikithon,” Caleb murmurs. “He works aboard the Sith Apprentice’s Star Destroyer. If he is here…” 

Fjord catches the name and his eyes go wide. “You don’t think the Apprentice is here?”

“I think its very likely,” Molly says. He activates an open line on his comm. “Everyone in this hangar, we are pulling back. No one engage the Caeodogeist. I repeat, we are pulling back.”

Caleb grabs Molly’s arm suddenly. “You cannot abandon this hangar. She will just enter the base. There is no where safe from her or the Apprentice.”

“I never said I was abandoning this hangar,” Molly snarls, and pulls away from Caleb. As he passes behind Nott, he calls up, “Halfling! When you see stuff start falling from the ceiling, shoot at it for me, will you?” Without waiting for her response, he darts off behind a pile of decommissioned ships.

“I need to get something from my ship,” Fjord calls, over the echoing monologue. “Can you cover me, Nott?”

“You can’t be serious!” Nott says. “You’re going to get shot!”

Fjord only winks and ducks out from behind his hiding spot. 

With a loud groan, Nott reloads and swings the rifle back around to face the rest of the hangar.

The captain’s monologue continues from the hologram. “Soon, you will all be dead. However, we will accept surrender at the price of information about the rest of your petty alliance.”

The Caedogeist still stands motionless behind her shield, her eyes trained on the hologram before her.

Fjord darts forward, and with one fluid motion lifts himself up and into the still dysfunctional on-boarding ramp of his ship.

“There is one more thing,” Ikithon says, as his hologram eyes scan the room. “Caedogeist, retrieve the deserter.”

The hologram collapses, and the Caedogeist’s eyes snap directly to Caleb’s location.

Her shield drops, and in a flash she darts across the hangar. Nott swears and tries to shoot her, but she dodges to the side with impossible agility. 

Above them, there is a sound of gears whirring, and a large pallet of barrels is moved by a crane across the hangar. Caleb recognizes the red stripes across the side as dozens of fuel cells. Once the crane is hovering over the center, the claw releases, and the fuel cells.

“Fjord, get out of there!” Caleb yells.

There is a blur of green as Fjord tumbles out of the ship and rolls toward, just as the fuel cells fall from the cavern ceiling.

Nott takes her shot at the falling debris, and with a flash, it ignites the surroundings, destroying Fjord’s ship with its flames.

The Fire Scourgers fall back as the wave of heat rises. The Caedogeist disappears amongst the fire and smoke, her path now cut off by a burning ship. 

Fjord bows his head out of respect for his ship, now well and truly dead.

Molly swoops in seemingly out of nowhere, and lands in the middle of the hangar, right in front of the burning debris. “Everyone! Fall back!”

A chorus of acknowledge rises up from the rebels, and they all start streaming back through the hangar doors. Molly runs towards Caleb, Nott, and Fjord, gesturing them to follow him. “If you truly do want to help up,” he says, “then follow me.”

Mollymauk guides the three ex-prisoners out of the hangar. As soon as the door seals shut behind them, Molly lobs detonators onto the ceiling, locking into place, and red lasers create a criss-cross over the entrance. Caleb recognizes the motion-detecting detonators, rigged to detonate as soon as the laser is broken. A handful of rebels set up another bought around the next corner. 

“Hey! Crazy purple devil!” someone yells, and Molly’s head pivots towards the sound. A blue-skinned man with long black hair pushes backwards through the retreating crowd in Mollymauk’s direction. 

“Babadon?” Molly says. “I thought you would have left by now.”

Babadon folds his arms. “I figured you would need all the help you could get with evacuation. We are starting to clear out LV-50. It’s almost cleared out, and that’s where my ships are currently holding up.”

“Have you heard if the Apprentice is here?” Molly asks, quietly.

“Last I heard, he was seen in the northern hangar.”

Molly squeezes his eyes shut and presses his fingers against forehead. “Alright. Babadon, can you radio an encrypted signal to all the rebels? Let them know we leave from hangar LV-50.” Molly glances over at the three who follow him. “Fjord, if you really are a pilot, we are going to need your help getting out of here. You and Nott can follow Babadon to the hangar.”

“What are you doing with Caleb?” Fjord asks.

Nott raises her rifle. “Don’t even think about killing him!”

Molly knocks away the barrel of the rifle, rolling his eyes. “Trust me, as much as that would simplify my life right now, we’re getting everyone, the deserter includes, out of here.”

“Where are we going?” Caleb asks, following Molly down the corridor, while Nott and Fjord peel off with the genasi man. 

“If they really are tracking you somehow, you can come with me to our war room. Hopefully the Caedogeist follows us for a bit, instead of heading to the hangar. Your mission is to figure out that tracker and deactivate it.”

“What remains in the war room?” Caleb asks, running after Molly at a sprint.

“Oh, just all rebel communications from the past two months, and other sensitive information. I will try to download most of it, and if that fails, destroy what I cannot take.”

No rebels follow them down the opposite path from Babedon. As they are running, the entire hangar shakes with another explosion, this one much less muted than the ones early.

“Guess our hangar blast doors are already breeched,” Molly sighs. “You Empire folk really work fast.”

Molly turns sharply down another path and stops before two smooth silver doors. He presses his hand against a panel, which illuminates green and the doors slide open.

When they enter, the cavern above them is completely silent, no chittering of kinzen like Mollymauk had always come to expect. Instead there were giant crumbled stalactites, fallen from the ceiling thanks to the explosions (both enemy and friendly fire) rocking the base.

Molly hurries over to the large table at the center of the room. He pulls out a small rectangular disk and plugs it in. A series of holograms begin floating over the table, and Molly scans through them, dragging some down towards the disk, and gesturing others off into oblivion, the images dissolving into glittering blue pixels. 

After only a few moments of silence, Molly pipes up, “Usually, this place is filled with our little friends, hanging up in the ceiling. I’m sure you met some of them in the cell block.” He cannot stand silence. He picked an unforunate companion in Caleb, who very much enjoys silence. “I’m glad they were all able to get away.”

Caleb regards the tiefling, not really paying attention, his mind scanning through any possibilities of deactivating the tracker in his arm. 

Another blast rocks the cavern, and a few rocks crumble from the ceiling. There is a faint high-pitched, pitiful whine, and both Caleb and Molly tense. 

Caleb spots the creature first, a small brown kinzen crumpled in the corner. Molly pauses from his files, wanders over and gently picks up the creature. He chitters happily in response. “You kind of missed the evac memo, friend. Luckily, I have a job for you.”

The kinzen curls his long tail around Molly’s arm. Molly raises his forearm, and the creature dangles happily, webbed arms spread wide. Molly carries the creature over to Caleb and slings him around Caleb’s shoulder and heads back to the table. Caleb is too startled to respond, and the kinzen wraps his tail around Caleb’s arm for balance. 

“So you really are a deserter, then? You really pissed off that Ikithon guy to send the entire legion after you,” Molly says.

Caleb warily eyes the furry creature walking across his shoulders. “I suppose. He was my captain. He recruited me from engineering to join his newest weapons division. Fire Scourgers, those red and white troopers you saw.”

“You were one of those flame-thrower bastards?” 

“For one mission. It didn’t go well.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the people you incinerated would agree.”

The kinzen leaps from Caleb’s shoulder, limbs extended, and glides around Caleb’s torso and gently lands on the ground. Caleb hardly acknowledges the creature had moved. His mind suddenly parsecs away, on the little planet of Felderwin.

Molly glances over his shoulder, and waves his hand towards Caleb’s blank stare. “Hey, come back now. We don’t have time for that.”

Caleb, his gaze still distant, says, “The stormtroopers you see in battle are enemies, monsters even. The ones I would see are people stolen from their families. Some of them are corrupted by the Empire’s teachings, but many of them are just scared and trying to look out for each other. If you want to survive, if you want what few people you care for in that darkness to survive, you play this game of terror.” 

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“I want you to trust me, I think. Not completely, but enough not to kill me yet.”

Molly watches the download continue and after a beat of silence, he says, “Did you leave behind people you cared about?”

“I did.” Caleb’s focus back into the present, and he bend down to scratch the head of the kinzen. “Our promotion to be Fire Scouragers, though, it changed them. Fire can be mesmerizing. It’s power, intoxicating.” 

Irritation flares within Mollymauk, and he snaps, “And so you’re superior to them, being able to resist the temptation?”

Caleb turns his eyes, diverting his eyes from Molly. “I am more broken for it. There is no happy ending for someone like me.”

Molly pauses in his file sorting, and looks towards Caleb. “Assholes like us will never have a happy ending. But maybe we can try and leave the universe a little bit better when our time comes.”

“I need the tracker out if I’m ever going to do that.”

Molly sighs, and the kinzen glides back from his horns over to Caleb’s shoulder to perch. Molly glances over the table, and watches as more files minimize into the memory unit. He turns back to Caleb, a removes a small knife from a sheath hidden in his jacket. “I’ll make this quick.”

He runs his finger of Caleb’s forearm, over the rough patch of skin on the tattooed dash mark. Caleb flexes his hand, and then relaxes the muscles. The kinzen curls around Caleb’s neck, as if anticipating the pain he is about to feel and trying to comfort him. As Molly pierces the skin, Caleb squeezes his eyes shut, but doesn’t cry out. 

Using the tip of the blade, Molly flicks out a small, thin tracker, no larger than Caleb’s smallest fingernail. 

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” Molly says, dropping it on the ground and crushing it with his boot. “No amputation required.” 

The table goes dark, as another blast rocks the room. 

“And that’s our cue!” Molly announces, pulling the memory disk and tucking it down his shirt. 

He scoots by Caleb towards the door, scratching the kinzen as he passes by. “You take care of this little thing, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll start to believe you won’t shoot me in the back when I least expect it.” 

As Caleb exits the room, Molly throws a few motion-detecting detonators behind them, and the doors to the war room seal shut. 

“You are the fourth person over the past two days that has taken a risk on someone they have no reason to the trust,” Caleb says. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

Molly grins and pats Caleb’s cheek. “Welcome to the rebellion, sweetheart.” Molly begins sprinting down the hall, gesturing for Caleb to follow. “You’re still on probation, though, so don’t get too excited!”

Caleb chases after Molly, with the brown kinzen gliding alongside them.

Beau’s voice crackles over Molly’s comm. “Molly, get to the south hangar. We are getting ready to leave.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, things got a little crazy. I've decided to post the remainder of Episode II today, and then hope to return with Episode III sometime early next year.   
> Happy holidays, everyone! Hope you enjoy the rest of the episode... :)


	8. Chapter 8

Caleb and Molly burst into the southern hangar, and spot Beau covering the entrance to Babadon’s ship. Across from them, a line of X-wings engines flare red. Babadon waits by the entrance to his ship, with Beau laying down blaster fire as more stormtroopers exit drop ships. 

Molly rushes over, and boards the ship, shouting out a greeting to Beau. Beau follows behind Caleb, covering them as they enter.

“We have X-wings ready to go ahead of the cargo ships,” Beau informs them.

“Where is Fjord and Nott?” Caleb demands. 

Babadon laughs. “The half-orc is apparently a pilot. He and the halfling are going to take an Y-Wing.”

“There is no way Nott agreed to that,” Caleb says, and he turns on his comms. “Nott? Are you there, Nott?”

The response is high-pitched shriek. “Caleb! Fjord is trying to kill me!”

In the background, Caleb can heard Fjord’s response, “If you get killed, I get killed, Nott. I promise, I can fly us out of here.”

“We’re taking off, so buckle in!” Molly calls, as he follows Babadon to the cockpit.

Jester rushes forward and grabs Caleb’s bloody arm. “What happened?” she demanded. “Yasha, get a medical kit!”

“I’m fine,” Caleb says, stumbling after Molly. “I need to make sure Nott is okay.”

Caleb enters the cockpit, where Babadon sits in the main seat, with Molly as co-pilot. 

Over the speakers, Caleb hears a stream of voices.

“Red-1, checking in.”

“Red-5, checking in.”

“Um… Fjord, checking in?”

And the voices continue.

Molly glances over his shoulder. “If you want to watch, then take a seat.”

Caleb collapses into seat that unfolds from the wall. The kinzen curls its tail more tightly around Caleb’s arm. 

Molly opens up his comm and says, “Beau, I trust you be the gunner?”

Babadon remarks, “I would rather have one of my people take point.”

“You won’t find a better shot in the galaxy than Beauregard Lionett,” Molly replies, and Babadon shrugs. 

Out of the front window, they watch an X-wing hover in the air, and shoot at the drop ships. Stormtroopers scatter, and the ships are blown out of the hangar, and go crashing down the mountainside. 

Troopers shoot at the ships as they exit the hangar, but their guns are futile against the thick metal exteriors and rising shields. 

As they ships exit the hangar, there are at least a dozen X-wings and Y-wings circled up around a couple of cargo ships.

“V-formation,” says a voice over comms. “All X-wings at the front. Gold squad will cover the rear of the convoy.”

“Do you really think we can just fly by a Star Destroyer?” Caleb asks. “We have maybe 15 ships. Those Star Destroyers? They carry tens of thousands of TIE-fighters.”

“We just need to cut a path through and jump to hyperspace,” Babadon replies. “If we engage for any longer than we need to, we’re all dead.”

“Come on, let’s be a bit more optimistic!” Molly says. 

Behind the ships, there is a deafening explosion, that sends the ship lurching forward and away from the mountain.

The door to the cockpit slides open, and Jester pokes her head in. “What was that? Were we hit?”

“Don’t worry about that, dear. That was just the little surprise I left for the troopers that broke into the war room.” Molly slips on the headset, and presses a button near the ear. “Alright, Beau? You in position? We are going to have some company.”

Caleb can’t hear the response. Instead, he looks ahead. The sky is blue around them, but as they leave the atmosphere, it turns dark, dotted with stars. Three Star Destroyers hover in the orbit of Zadash, with hundreds of formations of TIE-fighters patrolling.

Molly grins. “And now, the fun begins.”

—————

Fjord guides the ship into roughly the formation of the other Y-Wings, as they exit the pale blue atmosphere of Zadash and into the endless star-filled expanse. The planet beneath them looks like a gray and green marble, and before them sits three Star Destroyers.

“Nott, can you shoot?” Fjord asks through the comms of the ship. 

She screams in response.

“I hope that is a yes,” he replies. 

“Listen up!” comes Mollymauk’s voice over the comms. “We are going starboard side. They didn’t yet break formation so we only have a brief chance before they converge. As soon as you are clear for hyperspace, jump. I’ll have a scrambled signal sent to all of you for where to meet up. Not all in the same place, but you’ll be with allies.”

Another voice crackles over the speaker, “We have fighters, incoming.”

There are two convoys of ships closing distance quickly, but many enemy ships are still a distance off, only just breaking patrol formation to engage. 

The black and gray bodies of TIE-fighters swarms like insects towards the rebel convoy. 

Fjord spins the ship as an enemy ship fires on the wing. 

“I can’t shoot when you’re flying like a maniac!” Nott yells. 

“I’m trying to keep us from getting killed!” 

Then, Jester’s voice chirps over the speaker: “Fjord! I’m setting you a tracking signal for the ship we are on! Don’t get separated, okay?”

“Copy that, Jester.” And the ship pings with received signal.

Another wave of TIE-fighters circle back, and fire electric green blasts towards the ship. An X-wing swoops overhead, and there is an explosion of yellow and white-hot light as the enemy ship gets struck. From the pilot seat, Fjord maneuvers the ship up and around, leveling off behind another TIE-fighter. He fires, catching the center pod, which erupts in another explosion.

“There’s another gaining!” Nott calls out.

Fjord glances down at the scanners, and barrels to the side, just as the green lasers erupt behind them. 

There is a constant stream of voices, pilots calling for assistance for pinned-down allies. The ships stay relatively close to course, skirting the starboard side, but still at a low enough angle to avoid the Star Destroyer’s cannons. 

Fjord’s eyes try to scan over the names of the ships as they dart on his dashboard, but between flying the ship, firing, and Nott’s panic attack, he barely has enough of his mind to focus on keeping them alive. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the first two carrier ships rocket into hyperspace. 

He rolls the ship out of the path of an incoming fighter, and above Jester’s cargo ship.

“Clear!” Molly calls out, and Fjord follows them into hyperspace. 


	9. Chapter 9

With another two X-wings following, the ships of Fjord and the Gentleman glide through hyperspace. They drop in and out, changing direction with every leap, in hopes of disrupting any tracking. Finally, after the third jump, one of the X-wing chimes in that injuries sustained from the firefight, they wouldn’t be able to make more than one more jump.

“Quite alright,” Molly replies. “We’re almost there.”

At last, they emerge above a small planet marbled with lavender waters and light green and brown land masses. Fjord glances down at his scanners, reading the planet’s name:  Allfield. 

They gently descend through the planet’s atmosphere towards broad open fields of mottled grasses. 

Molly sighs in relief and says, “We’re home at last!”

The grasses ripple as huge bays doors slip open on the ground beneath, revealing a perfectly camouflaged underground hangar. The ships careful descend, the one X-wing smoking slightly from the engine.

Once safely on ground, the glass capsules unseal around the cockpits. Nott leaps from her seat, without waiting for the ladder to be wheeled over, and curls up on the ground, whispering endless thanks under her breath.

“See? I told you we would make it,” Fjord says, from the cockpit. A human brings over a rung ladder to assist Fjord out of the ship. He slides down to sit next to Nott.

“I’m not convinced that I didn’t die, and this is just a really shitty afterlife,” Nott replies, still on the ground.

In the bay next to them, the cargo ship lands. There is a hiss of air as the landing gears engage and the ramp lowers.

Jester is the first to runn off the ship, with her red and white droid rolling closely at her heels.

“Fjord? Nott? Are you okay?” Jester asks, and she skids to her knees before both of them.

A sudden wave of exhaustion hits Fjord, and he sways. Sprinkle hums nervously. 

“Fjord?” 

His eyes flicker closed, and he slumps against the ground.

“Are you hurt?” Jester asks. “Nott, is he hurt?”

Nott looks at Fjord’s unconscious body, eyes wide. “He was fine a second ago. I don’t know what’s wrong!”

“We need to get him to the med bay,” Molly says, as he joins Jester. He glances around and points. “You! Bring us that transport.”

Caleb steps forward and places a hand on Nott’s shoulder, and Nott relaxes slightly. Despite not knowing him for more than maybe two days, Caleb is the most familiar to her. 

“You found a friend?” Nott says, nodding her head towards the brown creature still curled around his shoulder, who chitters a polite hello.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I did.” Caleb glances at the kinzen, and scratches his head. 

“Mollymauk! You have been here all of two minutes and you already order around my people,” says a voice behind them.

Beau waves. “Hey, Bryce. How’s it going?”

“I was in much better spirits before I heard one of our largest bases was compromised,” they say, but their look is one of sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

Mollymauk grimaces, as the transport hovers over beside Fjord. Yasha steps around Jester and effortlessly moves Fjord on the transport. 

“Is he going to be okay?” Jester asks, looking up at Yasha with big, glassy eyes.

“I think he is just tired,” says Caleb, placing a hand on Jester’s shoulder. Nott approaches the other side and takes Jester’s hand. 

“And you need to get that arm fixed up,” Beau says, poking Caleb in the shoulder. The kinzen glides from his shoulder over to Beau’s, as if saying,  listen to her . 

“I will show you to the med bay,” a human rebel says, pushing Fjord’s transport out of the hangar.

Caleb, Beau, Jester and Nott of them wander away, but Yasha lingers behind, looking towards Molly. Mollymauk and Bryce stand quietly at the center of the bustling hangar. More rebels are being carted to medical bays, smoking ships are tended to, and the few supplies salvaged from the old base are shuffled away. 

“It’s a miracle you all got out of there,” Bryce says. “I’m presuming you took the precautions to not directly lead them to my base?”

“Every precaution, Bryce my dear,” Molly says, flicking his hand in the air dismissively.

“It’s also a miracle you didn’t get shot throughout the entire encounter, considering you wear no armor and your chest mostly exposed.”

“What’s the point of being a rebel and saving the universe if I can’t look a little sexy while doing so?” he says, and he tosses a black BB unit head to Bryce.

They catch the droid easily, and glance over it. “How did you manage this?” Bryce asks, walking towards the exit of the hangar, deeper into the underground base. 

“It was quite literally handed to me by the little blue tiefling,” Molly replies, falling in step with them. Yasha quietly follows behind them. Molly glances in her direction, trying to catch her eyes, but Yasha stares at her feet. 

They make their way to the central communications room, where Allura’s blue hologram is already flickering. 

“Mollymauk! I’m glad to see you made it out alive,” Allura says. 

“Yes, no trouble at all,” Molly says, but his eyes fall. A wave of exhaustion hits as he realizes just how much the Rebellion lost today. 

Bryce steps forward, placing the Empire droid head on the center console and connecting a few cables. They say, “Hopefully this droid has some information on how the base was compromised.”

Molly laughs nervously. “That honor belongs to the ex-Fire Scourger that managed to wander in without knowing a tracker was sewn into his forearm.”

“Ex-Fire Scourger?” Bryce says in disbelief. “What kind of company are you keeping these days, Mollymauk?”

“Only the interesting kind,” Molly replies. “Being ex-Empire doesn’t make him entirely untrustworthy. Everyone is just trying to make their way in the galaxy.”

Yasha looks up for the first time since entering the room, and steps forward, into the view of Allura’s hologram.

“I know I have no been forward with my past,” Yasha says. “But you should know that the deserter is not the only ex-Empire in your midst.”

“Well, I guessed as much,” Molly says. “You showed up out of nowhere during a battle between Empire and Rebellion, and you weren’t any rebel I knew.”

“It’s more than that, though,” Yasha says, her eyes pinching shut. “I belonged to him. To the Apprentice.” 

“You were a Knight of Obann?” Allura asks, carefully. 

“My mind was not my own. He can control people, influence them to do horrible things for him,” Yasha says, her voice soft. “I promise I am not loyal to him. He was there, at the base. He can still poke around my mind, but Beau helped me out of it this time.”

“Well that does break rule number one of the rebellion: stay away from the Sith Apprentice,” Molly comments.

Allura turns to look at Mollymauk. “Do you trust her?”

Without hesitation, he says, “With my life, and the life of this rebellion. Without question.”

Allura nods. “And then what of this ex-Fire Scourger? I presume he is in custody.”

“Nah, he’s probably good. Or at least of the ‘trying to be better’ variety. I gave him a buddy to look after,” Molly says.

“Did I miss why that is important?” Bryce asks.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I trust him or his compatriots entirely yet, but they would be of use to this rebellion. The half-orc can pilot pretty decently.”

Bryce fidgets with the cables around the central console again, securing them to the Empire droid head, and with a three-tone beep, the table illuminates with scrolling information, all jumbled in a complex code. They sigh, scanning through the information. “This will take a long time to unscramble.”

“Trying checking just the navigation history. If the droid was taken by surprise, it might not have had enough time to swipe memory,” Allura suggests. 

Bryce’s fingers sweep through a few holograms, and a star map is pulled up, large enough to cover the span of the table.

“Are there any frequented locations we don’t recognize as bases?” Molly asks.

Allura leans forward, her eyes narrowing. “Is that the Wildlands system?”

“Babenon had said that they were commandeering moons out there, probably for mining,” Molly says, and he zooms into the star system. “You know, if we could even free up one of those mining operation’s slaves, that could be quite the win for the Rebellion.”

“The Wildlands system is swarming with Empire ships,” Allura says. “Even if we could break through their defenses, there is no way we could get people out again.”

“But we could try,” Molly argues.

“Right now, we don’t have the resources,” Allura says. “Especially after losing one of our largest bases and countless lives.”

“It seems like this droid’s visits have been pretty concentrated,” Bryce says and takes control of the map again, and zooms in on a large planet, with a single moon. “Why are their resources centered here? If the goal was to mine the Wildland moons, they could have picked a planet with more than a handful of moons.”

Molly narrows his red eyes. “That’s Savalir.”

Allura spins to face Mollymauk, one hand raised, preemptively interrupting Molly’s next line. “Don’t get any ideas about it, Mollymauk. I’m not having this conversation.”

“But this is proof! If they have a base on the moons of Savalir, that probably means they are searching the planet!”

“What’s hiding on Savalir?” Yasha asks, breaking her silence.

Molly’s eyes sparkles with giddy excitement. “Savalir is said to hold one of the remaining temples of the Jedi.”

“The Jedi went extinct two or three generations ago,” Allura says. “Even if they had a temple on Savalir, it has probably been overtaken by the wildlife. Jedi are little more than optimistic myths at this point.”

“If the Empire is searching Savalir, they must think there is something valuable there!” Molly protests. “The Jedi were said to have powerful weapons, like the lightsaber Obann has.”

“You don’t bring a sword to a shoot out,” Bryce observes.

“But having another lightsaber, maybe we would have a chance at stopping the Apprentice,” Molly presses.

“I will not approve anyone flying that deep into Empire territory to possibly retrieve a weapon that might not even exist. Even if it did, we have no one to weild it with the prowess needed to defeat a Sith Apprentice,” Allura says.

“But what if we could also free the people stuck on that moon? We could just take one of the moons, take down command, get the people out, and none of the other operations would be the wiser.”

“It is far too dangerous, and there is not enough to be won by doing so.”

“There are people there, enslaved by the Empire, and that is not enough to warrant going there?”

“There are dozens of moons being mined around the galaxy,” Allura says. “Even if you were to free one, think of the repercussions the people of the other mining operations would face.” 

Mollymauk’s shoulder tense, like he isn’t letting go of his idea so soon.

Bryce deactivates the star map, and the table falls dark. They look at Molly and say, “You just lost a lot of people today. Don’t go looking for your death. They need your leadership.”

“I’m not much of a leader,” Molly replies. “I’m more a tiefling of action. But I promise, I wouldn’t be running to my death. I can feel it. There’s something there, on Savalir.”

“You can feel it?” Yasha asks.

“Yes. It’s like the old stories say. The Jedi used the Force, but the Force is something that connects every living thing. I need to go to Savalir.”

“You will not,” Allura shoots back. “You are not running away from your responsibilities as a leader in this Rebellion to chase after a feeling. We need you here.”

Molly’s shoulders slump forward, as again the weight of today’s loss weighs down. 

Allura sighs, looking between Molly and Yasha. “I’ll be in touch,” she says quietly, and then her hologram blinks out, leaving the room mostly in darkness, only a few flickering yellow lights lining the walls of the room.

Bryce goes to leave, but pauses to place one hand on Molly’s shoulder. “It’s the smart thing to do. Just let this go, and be here for your people to grieve together.”

Molly doesn’t look at them as they exit, the doors sealing quietly behind them. 

“It’s unfortunate, really,” Molly says aloud, and Yasha glances over. His eyes are still trained on the dark console, where the star map had floated. 

“What is?”

Molly pulls a small disk from a pocket in his coat and throws it on the table. The table illimunates blue once more, the Wildlands system rotating above the surface. With a flick of his hand, the image and location of the Savalir moon base begin to be copied onto the disk. “It’s unfortunate that I’m an incredibly stupid and not at all about to do the smart thing.”

“Molly, don’t tell me-”

“How did you end up as Obann’s pawn?” Molly asks suddenly.

“You’re avoiding the subject,” Yasha counters.

Molly shrugs. “It’s going to take a minute to copy, and besides, I am rather curious how the woman who saved my life was also a Knight of the Apprentice.”

“You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

Molly stares at her expectantly.

Yasha sighs and closes her eyes. “The Apprentice was looking for strong people to act as his guard. Even he knew that a single Sith Apprentice surrounded and outnumbered by rebels could meet his doom. He couldn’t find the caliber of warrior he needed for this elite team, so he sought it out.”

“And he found you.”

“Me, as well as my people,” Yasha says. “I was Mandolorian.”

Molly quiets at this. The Mandolorians were nearly wiped out by the Empire, living in solitary cells throughout the galaxy. They were warriors of unparalleled ability, known for their smithing of the indestructible metal beskar. There were a few factions of the Mandolorians still around, but they had mostly been reduce to myth, much like their sworn enemy of the Jedi.

“You couldn’t fight back, after he took control of your mind?” Molly asks.

Yasha squeezes her eyes tightly shut. “I felt hollow. It was easy for him to manipulate me. For three years, I didn’t try fighting back. I was never far enough away from him that his control wavered.”

“Until the battle on Trostenwald,” Molly says. “I barely remember seeing you. You look like you had fallen from the sky. Everything was so bright, and there you were, pulling me out of the wreckage.”

It was an impossible day, the day that Molly and Yasha met. During the battle in the airspace above Trostenwald, a solar storm flared out from the nearby sun, catching everyone off guard. It tore through the Apprentice’s battle ship that orbited the planet. The ship couldn’t navigate fast enough out of its way, and took the full brunt of the fire storm. 

They fell from the sky. Escape pods fired off, and Yasha, by a stroke of luck, or maybe a touch of fate, was separated from Obann. Her escape pod crashed on the bank of a wide blue lake, and a rebel fighter crashed down beside her, straight into the water. 

She doesn’t remember too much from the day, except she watched as a rebel ship crashed down in a lake near her escape pod. That’s where she found Mollymauk, pulled him from the wreckage of a ship. And since then, she never looked back.

“Could he take control of you again?” Molly asks. “Is there no way to prevent it?”

“Beau was able to snap me out of it. I’m stronger than I was,” Yasha says. “But, if possible, I would avoid getting that close again. I don’t want to put you on the receiving end of my violence.”

Molly places his hand on Yasha’s shoulder. “I know.” After a moment, Molly speaks up again. “Could you go back to being Mandolorian? Reinstate the creed?”

Yasha shakes her head. “That is not how it works. Besides, I think I’m content here with this life I have now. However uncertain it may be.”

“Do you miss it?”

“I definitely miss some of my gadgets. I use to have a jetpack, you know.”

“Maybe we could find you one.”

Yasha’s eyes unfocus, as she looks ahead. “Best leave it for the future of Mandolorians. I have no need of it.”

Molly nods, and scoops the disk off the table and slips it into his coat. “Well then, in the name of avoiding our emotions, we are going to find the Jedi temple on Savalir.”


	10. Chapter 10

Fjord wakes up in a blindingly white room, his bare back pressed against a cold table. He makes out the shape of the medical droid hovering over him. 

“You are conscious,” the droid says, with its mechanical, tempered voice. “I see no physical ailments. Further testing is required.”

Fjord squints against the list and sits up. “Don’t worry about it. That happens to me sometimes, when I get into fights like that,” he assures the droid. “Thank you.”

“I am here to serve,” the droid replies.

“How long was I unconscious?” 

The droid’s voice hums, “Two planetary rotations.”

His stiff neck and heavy limbs certainly agreed with that number, but still Fjord frowns. That’s definitely longer than usual. He must have been exhausted. 

“I have alerted the others of your updated condition,” the droid says, pressing a button on the bed that curves into a sitting position. 

The droid hands over his clothes, and he slowly, stiffly gets dressed. Behind them, the doors to the white room slide open soundlessly, just as Fjord is about to pull on his shirt. 

“Droid, leave us for a moment, will you?”

Fjord glances over, and sees the blue-skinned man from before, the one who’s ship carried Jester and Caleb to safety. Certainly not the first visitor he would expect.

The man dips his head. “Fjord.”

“It seems impolite that I do not know your name in return,” Fjord replies. He pulls over his shirt, doing his best to keep his chest turned away from him.

“I am known as the Gentleman. You might recognize the name,” the water genasi replies. “I’ll get straight to business. You are a threat to me.”

“How so?” 

The Gentleman strides forward and jams one finger into Fjord’s sternum. “I make it my business to identify my enemies long before they are an active threat. And it seems that brand on your chest proves my theory. You use to run with Uk’otoa and his lot.”

Fjord flinches at the name. “Not anymore. I’m long forgotten.”

“You don’t think Uk’otoa doesn’t still have a bounty out on you? I’ve heard a lot about the half-orc prodigy.”

“I’m no prodigy, and I’ve certainly never seen a bounty. He has no reason to care about my leaving.”

The genasi snorts, “You’ve never seen a bounty because no one wanted you to see it. The bounty’s internal. I only know because I have some intelligence on the inside of his ring.”

Fjord glances around, trying to subtly find an escape route, but the Gentleman catches his gaze and says, “No, no. There is no need to run from me. I have no interest in turning you over to that monster. You have to understand, I’ve played my cards here, with the Rebellion.”

“If you are a smuggler, then I find it difficult to believe you’ve casted all your bets with this humble force for good.”

“Let’s just say there is still someone I care about in this universe, and having the Empire conquer everything would make her sad. I don’t want to see that happen so instead I lean into my specialties. I deliver weapons around the galaxy and, I cart a bunch of stupid rebels away from their breached base on the weekends.”

Fjord considers for a moment. “And I am a threat to that?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Uk’otoa is much more unpredictable than me. If his people find you, they also find the Rebellion, and that bounty is enough to multiply their banks ten-thousand-fold.”

“I’ve managed to stay under their radar for this long,” Fjord replies. “I can keep a low profile.”

“But before this, your cover being blown didn’t also put the only hope in this galaxy for peace at risk.”

“To be honest, I didn’t intend to join the Rebellion. I sort of got thrown into it.”

The Gentleman laughs out loud. “You are really are stupid. How do you get thrown into a rebellion?”

Fjord sighs heavily and rolls his eyes towards the ceiling. “I think I followed a woman here.”

The genasi considers Fjord for a moment, and then slaps him on the shoulder. “Well, I’ve certainly done worse for a woman.” 

Just then, the doors to the medical bay slide open once more, and Mollymauk bursts into the room, arms extended like he’s about to put on the greatest show.

“Fjord! Glad to see you are recovered. Now, grab your things. We are leaving in ten.”

Jester rushes in behind and gives Fjord a hug. “Glad to see you are awake!” Sprinkle rolls in behind and begins pushing Fjord’s backpack towards the door.

“Hey, wait one moment, what’s going on? Droid, don’t touch that!”

Sprinkle growls and bumps into the bag one more time for emphasis.

The Gentleman steps back and glances between the tieflings.

“Jester says you are the best pilot she knows, and we would like a pilot to take us to Savalir,” Molly says. “And you’re going to be the half-orc to do it.”

“You plan on just flying to Savalir, in Empire occupied territory?” the genasi comments from the side. 

“Why, yes. Yes we do.”

Jester claps her hands together. “We are going on a mission.”

Babedon gives Jester a hard look. “You’re from Nicodranas? I can tell by your pistol.”

Jester pats the sleek silver pistol holstered at her waist. “I am! Have you ever been? It is the most beautiful place in the galaxy.”

“That it is,” he replies. He glances over to Mollymauk. “Your timing is uncanny. I have a gift for you, you crazy purple devil.”

“A gift for me? Oh, Babedon, you shouldn’t have.”

“Give it two rotations to arrive,” he replies. “It’s an Imperial freighter, with access codes. It can get you to the moons of Savalir without too much trouble.”

Molly pauses and considers. “That is incredibly kind. Almost too kind.”

The Gentleman smirks. “I have no use for an Empire ship. It would draw too much attention, and I know how you thrive on attention. Really, you would be doing me a favor.” He pauses, and glances between the others in the room. “Besides, I have more skin in this game than you give me credit for.”

Molly spins towards Fjord. “Good news! We got you a new ship to replace that junker!”

Fjord places a hand over his heart. “I am still mourning my ship. And I don’t feel like an Empire ship is a long-term replacement.”

“Next best thing. And then I will personally find you an even fancier ship.” Molly then coughs into his hand and mutters quickly under his breath, “officially belonging to the Rebellion.”

“Well, hold on, I didn’t realize the Rebellion was accepting applicants to join their little club.”

Jester scoops up Fjord’s backpack from the group and throws his coat over her shoulder. “We just help save the Rebellion from a huge Empire attack, Fjord! Of course we’re in!”

Jester grins towards him, and Fjord can’t help but grin back. That damn energy is contagious. “Fine. But I am expecting a fine ship from you, Mollymauk.”

Molly bows extravagantly. “I am a tiefling of my word.”

As Fjord gathers his things and they leave the room, and four more people are waiting outside. 

Caleb nods towards Fjord. “Glad to see you are well.” Perched on his shoulder is a furry creature, long tail wrapped around his shoulder.

“You got a new friend?”

“Um, yeah,” Caleb replies, and absentmindedly scratches the kinzen’s head.

From within her helmet, Nott clicks her tongue. “I cannot believe this is our lives now.”

Beau slams her fists together. “We ready to go or what?”

Yasha stands behind her, arms crossed over her chest. “Where you go, I go,” she says, nodding towards Molly.

Molly grins, glancing about his newly established strike force. He can already feel the adrenaline in his veins. “Then let’s get started.”

**Author's Note:**

> Phew, lots of new names dropped in this first chapter of Episode II! As you can tell, we've switched gears a little and now get a sneak peak on the inside of this infamous Rebellion...  
> As always, thank you so much for reading!


End file.
